The Halo Collection
by Defiant-Candle
Summary: My collection of ideas, plot summaries and excerpts from stories that I never found time to put down on paper. A tribute to the epic that is the Halo Saga- not a whole story! Just a miscellany of ideas from my early teens
1. Author's Notes 1

Howdy ho, halo fans-

Ok- First things first, I'm Defiant Candle and I'm one of those die-hard fan of Halo. Still get goosebumps every time I hear the theme soundtrack- the game, story, everything about is awesome. So I wrote some stuff on it.

Second- This story is one of a few in which I will be putting up on this web. Note that they are incomplete, for many elaborate reasons.

Third- These will NOT be completed- I'm sorry to say that if you enjoyed it very much, but trying to balance sixth form life and story-writing at the same time is a hell of a challenge.

Also, I am considering giving up writing due to a change of heart in what I want to do in life. Yes. You did not just imagine that past sentence- blunt and melodramatic. This means of course I have to give up some things, including of creative writing.

Fourth-ly?- I wrote these a long, long, long time ago. Like, oh, four or five years ago, I reckon. This was stuff which I hoped to complete but couldn't find the time or the motivation to do so.

Regardless, like Mass Effect, this is one of the games of which I fell head-over-heels in love with- when I was in my early teens.

Due to my obsession and nerd levels reaching explosion levels, I felt it right to write a story about.

I even had this incredibly naïve and dumb idea that I could write a story or a plot summary for Halo and send it to Bungie, who would accept it and (wait- it gets better-) ask me to help make the Halo movie with me as the lead writer! Ha! Ridiculous.

Phew- scuse me- anyway- so that didn't happen- (I actually sent a letter with the document attached for them to read it and they re-directed me to a fan-fiction website- figures-) and well, yeah, years passed and I moved on to different interests and hobbies.


	2. Author's Notes 2

Here are some headers.

New character- Zetras Vadumee- if that's right- Thel's older brother. Good guy, likes humans, spiritual, stoic and strong- ends up helping humans in the battle against Atros Volamee.

Pyarus Toiron- Prophet who is good and holds a dangerous secret.

Jack- ODST trooper- young trooper with dumb luck- was meant to the main character in the Halo 3 ODST game- Wanted to give him a back story and a likeable character.

Atros Volamee- Originally he was going to be called 'The Prophet of Justice'- being a prophet of course. But later I changed him to an elite. The series antagonist. Generic Voldemort/Joker/Vader cyborg elite character who uses dark powers and OP martial arts as well as forerunner weaponry to kill enemies. Psychotic, wants to kill everything- as he found out the truth about the rings and the great journey being a lie- obviously took that well.- and leads an army of 'converted' 'Death Troopers'- (name already taken, I know-) – covenant soldiers who join him and become mutated cyborg creatures. – in his conquest to take over universe and destroy it's creature.

Don't be surprised if you find similarities between my version of Harbinger from Mass Effect and this guy in my text- this is as original as the idea gets, with one rip-off after another- Volamee came before I gave Harbinger a personality so there are some obvious links.

What I could have written:

Ok, so I'll give you the low-down of how my stories could have played out.

-Be warned- clichés and absurd plots afoot!

So the story goes that the Halo rings have ancient power placed within them by the Forerunners to be bestowed upon those who are worthy of it or possess certain traits within their character that deem them fit to wield it- (science and physics going way out of the window here). Volamee is an elite who finds this out and orders Pyarus the hermit prophet to give him this power. Volamee has a bad history with John-117, so naturally he decides that John is a blight to be purged. The story is woven throughout the main trilogy of the conflict between John and the renegade elite.

The first story is set just before Halo 2. Basically some crazy stuff happens, John gains the power of a halo ring and gains god-like powers, fights Volamee's army and destroys them single-handedly, kills Volamee (predictably in an energy-weapon fight that causes John to lose half his right arm- 'gasp'- how original! -Sarcasm-), falls in love with Cortana- eww!- saves the galaxy again.

Zetras, being Thel's brother helps the humans get out of Volamee's crazy plan, fights Volamee along with Rtas (Half-Jaw- because he is a badass)- and John in a three-vs-one crazy ass sword fight with manga-like proportions and Star-Wars/Harry Potter like power fights. Tries to help brother but is found guilty of heresy by Prophet of Truth (asshole) and is executed by Tartarus- setting bad-blood between the Brute Chieftain and Thel.

Halo 2 and 3 go as normal

THEN!- (readers: Oh god….)

Halo 4!

John crash-lands on Forerunner planet and opens portal that has him meet up with the Spartan II's and III's as well as Halsey, Mendez and other important characters who got stuck in the Micro-Dyson Sphere in Ghosts of Onyx. Meanwhile, Thel and Rtas find out that Volamee, being resurrected like Voldemort and looking like him (readers: Boo! Ripped Off!) is back and up to his old tricks again, this time with Ripa Moramee, that tank like elite from Halo Wars also resurrected.

Once again, more crazy stuff. Some good guys die, we meet the crew of the Spirit of Fire- from Halo Wars, tying up that plothole, Rtas dies ( ) in a fight with Ripa, (if it helps, Rtas chops off Ripa's leg off just before he dies like a boss ) Fred dies, Mendez dies, Linda dies- loads of good people unfortunately.

But the good guys start winning- Thel kills Ripa in a sword fight, the evil forces are wiped out and John basically 'ascends' to a higher plane of reality to fight the demonic spirit of Volamee who is trying to find and destroy the entity known only as 'The creator', thus destroying the entire universe and everything in existence. John and Volamee fight like Snake vs Ocelot in MG4 (except with claws, swords and powers) . Cortana somehow shows up and dies saving John, who then goes OTT and destroys Volamee once and for all. John succumbs to his wounds and dies 'in heaven', seeing the Creator in his last moments. The universe is saved again and there's a happy ever after. Yay.

As for Jack the ODST in H3 ODST, I never got to concluding his story. I did give him a tragic romance story with him and a Spartan II, though, so there's a win there .

(Yes- I use cyborg a lot in my ideas- anything that's cyborg is intimidating, evil and monstrous in my opinion- and by far are the coolest villains- sad, I know)

Anyway- please enjoy these ideas. Review and fave if you must- but don't expect me to continue or complete these stories. Like all my other works, they are expressions of my love for the games.


	3. Renegade Elite Excerpt: 1

**Halo**

_**Set in the events just before Halo 2 **_

_**Intro**_

_The figure in the rain. The dark figure in the pounding darkness of thunder and rain._

_He stood, neither human, nor alien, but something else. _

_A nightmare_.

Could he wake up?

_It watched him and he knew what must be done_

_They never accepted him. He was an outcast. _

_But that will soon change. He would make sure of that._

He reached out for safety. He wanted to wake up, but he couldn't.

_Treachery and power were his ways now. Alliances snaked throughout his life, both dark and sinister. They all had one goal._

_Annihilation_

They were after him.

_He beckons and a beast approaches. Its mind is clear, its strength and will, built on killing._

He needed to warn his friends.

_The enemy of the being must be destroyed, and only he can do it._

His home. Everything will be gone.

_And nothing will stand in his way._

No.

_Nothing._

_The beast disappears and the dark sentient watches it go._

Wake up!

_It turned and looked at him._

Powerless. He was going to die.

_I have found you._

A weapon? Anything at all? Anything that can kill it?

_And your friends and home will pay the price._

He will not be alone. Never.

_My power knows no boundaries. _

No. Please, no.

_Everyone will be killed. Everything shall burn._

You will never succeed!

_And so shall your loved one._

Leave her alone! He can save her. Keep her safe.

_She will never be safe. And neither will you._

NO!

"Chief! Wake up! I don't know about you but you're scaring the shit out of the marines, and these are the tough guys! No offense."

"None taken, Ma'am."

He awoke in a flurry of armour and weapons and stared at the purple, fluorescent form of A.I. construct Cortana through the doorway into the cockpit, and calmed at once. His breathing slowed and he soon remembered where he was. This was not the first time this had happened, he was fully aware of that. At least not in front of so many people….

He looked around the cargo hold of the ship.

Next to Cortana and on the seats were the surprised faces of the marines, some murmuring to themselves, others just continued loading their battle and assault rifles. They had a job to do.

And so did he.

Spartan John 117-Master Chief-Petty Officer sat down and relaxed as the pelican flew them to their next destination.

_Soon. _

At least tried to relax.

* * *

The battle for Haven II was not going well. At least not for the humans.

Halo, the artificial ring world, found in deep space, a super weapon that once activated could wipe out all living beings, had been destroyed. The Covenant have been dealt a powerful kick in the balls as Sergeant Avery Johnson liked to refer to it. Yet their comeback has never been stronger. They had glassed (bomb-barded with plasma missiles) all inter colony planets like Reach, yet could not stop The Master Chief, blowing up their precise ring into smithereens.

Still, they kept attacking, their desperation escalating to taking even the smallest of human settlements. Hell, even the smallest of Covenant military were armed to the teeth. The Chief had done a damn good job at pissing them off, with the Covenant deploying larger troops and heavier weapons into battle than ever before. They were definitely looking for him, but the 'demon' as they called him had been eluding and avoiding their capture, even at times when he was armed with only a pistol.

The same kind of pistol Johnson was using right now.

Sergeant Johnson had never believed he'd see the day he would have to use a pistol. His MA5B assault rifle had run out of clips and was knocked out of his hand by an Elite before he could reload. The son of a bitch would have blown his head off with its plasma rifle too; had not another soldier returned the favor with a shotgun.

Meanwhile, that soldier and he had retreated with forty other battered and bloody marines to a failsafe bunker, a dugout no less than 20 metres in width, 40 in length and 5 metres in height. They had rigged the front door with explosives and moved to the back of the room, hastily constructing three foot high sandbag walls. There was a medpack strapped to the wall, but the equipment inside was not enough for all the soldiers. The ammo was good; the only shortage was that of the pistols. Johnson could only watch as the rugged marines readied their weapons, and then turned to the soldier that had saved his life.

She was shorter than him, but she displayed her insignia of commander on her left shoulder proudly. Johnson saluted, a brief gesture that showed his rank as lower than hers. She smiled, a short curl of her red, chapped lips and replied.

"At ease, Sergeant."

"Yes Ma'am." Johnson responded, lowering his hand.

She had brown straight hair that was cut to the maximum length that the military allowed in all regulations. Her grey uniform separated her from the others with green and black armour and boots. She carried an M90 shotgun, which she had just started to reload and a holstered M6C pistol, a stripped down C variant less sophisticated than Johnson's. Despite her slight awkwardness as a not very tall person in such a high rank, she maintained an air of authority amongst the war-torn marines.

"They look tired," The commander stated, motioning towards the marines. "They might not be ready for the assault."

"Assault, Ma'am?"

A rumble shook the ground above and she continued.

"My cruiser was shot down by one of their ships and as I went down in one of the escape pods, I saw a squadron of Phantom ships heading this way as we retreated. Clearly they want to finish the job."

Johnson swore.

'Phantom' ships were the standard covenant drophip used deploy soldiers. They had replaced the original 'pincer' ships that exposed the soldiers as they exited via the side-doors. Now, with more guns and a gravity lift allowing a faster deployment of weapons and vehicles, The Covenant had gained a steady advantage over the humans in the war .Now the soldiers were in serious trouble.

Johnson's stomach tightened as he looked at the stairs that led up to the surface.

"Those stairs are wide enough for Hunters to come crawling through, as well as a shade turret, given that we actually let them deploy one of course, Ma'am."

The general looked at the various crates and lockers that dotted the area. She looked back at him and finished reloading her shotgun.

"Have your best marksmen gather what ammo they've got for the sniper rifles and tell them to move to the back. I want you also to order the men with the assault weapons to cover them. The moment they see hunters, the snipers will have enough cover to shoot them where it hurts."

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll see if there are any turrets in here we need, and mount them up."

"Very good. Carry on, Sergeant. I'll contact help."

"No need Ma'am. Help's already here."


	4. Renegade Elite Excerpt: 2

John decided to stand and work his muscles before entering battle. He preferred to stand anyway.

He stood seven feet tall and donned in his battle suit, a MJOLNIR unit coated with many layers of strong, tough alloy. It also contained an energy shield that could take energy bolts, bullets and other oncoming projectiles, which could recharge if the suit was no longer under fire for a short period of time. Strength and a weakness that few enemies attempted to exploit, his suit allowed him to take combat with opponents to new heights. The only limit prior to him being nearly invincible was his shields and the need to take cover. As annoying as they were, John knew all too well that the only shields his comrades had were the standard body armour, leather and flesh. He had often been forced to take hits while the soldiers would take cover, or use his own body as a shield against a barrage of plasma bolts to protect the wounded. Such acts had made John a war-hero, and John hated that. Still, while the covenant had given the humans all they got, John had recently begun to adopt a sense of hope towards the war. He had destroyed Halo, with the help of Cortana, annihilating a super weapon and an unruly, deadly parasite known as the Flood in the process. He was starting to believe that the war would be over soon, and he would go home and celebrate. If he had a home in the first place.

Unlike most military soldiers, who volunteered themselves in, John was chosen, along with seventy-five children at the age of six for a special classified military project, the SPARTAN II. Without letting them go home and replaced with artificial "flash clones", they were trained constantly everyday. Each day taught him a new lesson in survival, combat and teamwork. He had befriended a few of the trainees and allowed himself to become attached as the years marched on, each challenge becoming tougher and tougher, until the day of the augmentation. The Augmentation was a series of experiment designed to create genetically, cybernetic and neurological advanced super-soldiers. Being it too dangerous for any normal person, the UNSC searched through the inter-colonized planets and Earth to find children with a special genetic trait that allowed the augmentation to be done. However, the project was not full proof. Only thirty-two of the selected soldiers survived the project. Some of those who had survived were so deformed and crippled from the side effects that they could not fight, but the deaths were the main casualty of the event. The ones that could fight were given the ability to jump higher, run faster and hit harder that any other human being alive. With the combined strength of the MJOLNIR Mark V battle suits, they were almost invincible. But when the Covenant-Human war began, the Spartans were unprepared. One by one, the Spartans were killed off, leaving a few, including John left.

John stood at the cockpit of the Pelican, a massive soldier deployment drop ship with one driver and a cargo hold that could hold ten soldiers. Its squat wings and robust set were made for by maneuverable thrusters and an impressive set of weaponry. In the pilot's seat sat Joseph Sling, Sling for short, steering the ship and checking the instruments. The screens and controls lit up his ebony face through his helmet as he chewed on a cigar. Clearly he was trying to get a Johnson look. Sergeant Johnson was an auburn coloured roughneck marine, who was best friends with John since they first properly met after the destruction of the first Halo on a Pelican hiding in the ruins of the ring. His loud mouthed nature next John's quiet personality was one of few things that set them apart.

On the holopad next to Sling, standing one foot tall was the halycon-class battleship Pillar of Autumn A.I. Cortana. Cortana stood in the shape of a young and beautiful woman with short cropped hair, with symbols and lines running all around her body. All A.I. were given a standard shape and voice to show them by, as well as a personality. A flash clone of Dr Halsey's brain was used to aid the construction of Cortana, making her in some cases a younger version of Dr Halsey, with some major tweaks however. For one example, she is often known to get impatient and even make mistakes sometimes, a few flaws rarely found in smart A.I. Smart A.I. could do more things and think better than standard A.I., the downside was their life-span. Smart A.I. had a short span of seven years as a result of 'thinking themselves to death' as Dr Halsey said herself. It was likely that the same thing would happen to Cortana in less than decade or so as well.

John didn't like that.

Cortana was far too important amongst anyone else in the UNSC to be lost. She herself knew the secrets of Halo and had inside information on the Covenant military and politics. The Covenant have not found Earth yet, fortunately, but if they captured Cortana or any other resembling human A.I., they would extract the co-ordinates of the home planet. The rest was up to them.

Earth depended on him now. He could not fail.

And he promised himself that he never will.

"How long until we arrive?"

Sling looked up briefly and saw the faceless, pale yellow visor of the Master Chief, Spartan 117 staring back at him, before resuming pilot and replying.

"We should be at the Sergeant's placed co-ordinates very soon. ETA, fifteen minutes, sir."

"Very good, pilot."

Cortana stood, her hands on her hips. She looked at the Master Chief, John and he nodded back.

All A.I. were assigned to a Spartan soldier for combat and military purposes. They could hack in to enemy software, decrypt security codes and disable their intelligence while the Spartan handled the fighting. He or she could also display waypoints and targets when necessary, saving valuable time depending on the urgency of the mission. A Mark V suit has a layer of crystal that formed a network capable of supporting A.I. This gave the Spartan an incredible advantage over enemies in the battlefield.

Cortana was allowed by Dr Halsey to pick which Spartan she wanted to be with. She not only chose John for his skill of natural leadership and strength, but his luck. John had survived countless battles, and such a talent in war demanded a comrade. Cortana knew she had chosen well.

It was she who helped John destroy Halo, who discovered its secrets just before Halo's Forerunner Monitor, 343 Guilty Spark, convinced John to accidentally activate it. She was the voice inside the soldier's head, the one who did the pointing while he did the shooting. They had become partners, friends and allies.

Together, they were unstoppable.

Cortana focused on hacking into the communications of the Covenant army that had massed near the landing co-ordinates. She slid through the failsafe systems and wiped out the blocking codes. Sure enough, she heard a conversation between two Elites, a general and a shipmaster, the highest ranking soldier in the Covenant military besides the Brute Chieftain. She listened as the general told him that the "humans" had taken refuge in an underground bunker and sealed the entrance with their explosives. _Nice strategy_, she thought as the shipmaster ordered the general to send the first squadron of Grunts in first. Once all the explosives were used on the Grunts, they could move in.

This was not good. Without the explosives, the marines would be sitting ducks. Gathered together in a small bunker, to become target practice for the Elite plasma rifles. If they managed to squeeze a hunter or a shade turret in there…..

No, she daren't think about it. After all, help was coming. They were coming. She turned to the Chief.

"Chief? I got something."


	5. Renegade Elite Excerpt: 3

Ushana 'Tenukaree, General of Squadron Keen Blade, listened while shipmaster Y'Maros 'Kanekraa ordered him to send the Grunts in first, then to move in afterwards.

"Do not fail. No prisoners. Show the blasphemers no mercy, and if the demon does reveal himself, use whatever means necessary to make sure he will never trouble us again."

"Yes, Shipmaster."

"'Kanekraa out."

The comm channel crackled out of existence and 'Tenakuree looked at the Grunts, all of them inspecting their plasma pistols and checking their methane packs. A Grunt or an Unggoy stood five feet tall, with short thin legs that widened past the kneecap. Their three toed feet ended in small hoof-like toes and their arms, shaped like stick handled clubs, held two stumpy fingers and a thumb, large enough to house the grip of the plasma pistol. Their head held a beak- breath mask that contained a vocabulator system for the Grunt to speak, in a high-pitched, squeaky and to 'Tenakuree's and all the other elites, annoying voice. They also lugged around large methane packs of varying shape and size, some triangular and others rounded. Thanks to the methane they breathed, Grunts had become pests of the Covenant, troublesome, ignorant and the first to back down from a fight. There had been more than one occasion when the grunts were seen waving their arms in the air and running away from the battlefield. Grunts were led by a hierarchy chain of command, either by one or two Elites or a more experienced Grunt, but once they were taken down, all confidence in the Grunts were lost as they panicked and ran from the humans.

Pests, yes, useless pests, yes, but they were soldiers, and every soldier had its uses.

'Tenakuree stood up to full height, a tall and proud Elite. An 'Elite' or Sangheili as their species were truly named, stood eight feet, six inches tall and were stronger than normal humans. Only a Spartan soldier equipped with a Mark V suit could match up to their speed and power. They had a snake-like head and neck, and a quadruple hinged jaw, with four shark toothed mandibles and an upper jaw. Their hands had two middle fingers and two opposable thumbs on either side of their hand. Their legs were digitigrades, meaning they walked on their two, thick toes, with knees that bent in the opposite direction to those of humans. Despite their lanky frame and skinny arms, they were surprisingly strong. Their endurance and discipline made them honorable and yet extremely feared leaders. 'Tenakuree was dressed in his golden energy shield combat armour, with a short and pointed headdress that made his head look bigger than it really was. Covenant Elites were donned in armour on both legs, arms, their chest and their head. The gaps in the armour gave them enough room to bend and dodge at the cost of their vulnerable body being exposed. He picked up a plasma rifle from a weapon stack and its icon showed on his suit's neural interface. Elite neural interfaces were similar to that of a Spartan's with their shield bar above their radar and ammo display on the top right. Currently, it showed the icon with a bar below it, the plasma's battery and the number of shots it could hold. One hundred shots per rifle, each one or two blasts depleted the plasma battery, rendering the weapon useless and un-rechargeable once empty. It was shaped with two blue, dome-like finned chargers with the handle grip joining them together in the middle; with another bar further up with conductors either side as the bolt dischargers.

'Tenakuree walked through the encampment as the phantom ships deployed reinforcements and turrets. He travelled past a pair of jackals, vulture-headed, goat hoofed creatures with a fierce nature despite their size, squabbling over who had the best energy shield. With sphere-like energy shields attached to their arms, Jackals or Kig-yar were very good snipers, easily capable with a particle beam rifle. Their most used weapon however was the plasma pistol. Using the shields as a mobile cover, Jackals took advantage of the pistol's overcharge feature to take out big targets. 'Tenakuree ordered the Grunts to follow, and they came, waddling behind him.

They arrived at the bunker and made ready, for the battle was about to begin. Though he knew it would be over in a matter of minutes, 'Tenakuree had a feeling in his gut that the demon would arrive, and they, his army, would be waiting for him. Oh, how he treasured the moment he would see him fall, to finally be cut down for what he had done.

"Looking forward to killing the demon, General?" asked one Elite as he returned to the center of the camp.

"You and your brothers will make sure he is still alive, when I sever his head from his shoulders, will you?" 'Tenakuree said, touching his energy sword that was holstered on his belt.

"We will make sure that he is armed with a blade before you dispose of him."

"Good. I would prefer him to go out fighting, an honorable death for such an accursed one."

The Elite grinned, a gesture of his mandibles and readied his carbine. 'Tenakuree picked up another plasma rifle for his left hand, and gave the signal.

The Grunt at the back of the group caught the message and shouted a high-pitched 'Go! Go!" And with that, the Grunts charged down the steps into the bunker.

* * *

"I hear them coming, Ma'am, shall I set them off?" The Marine with the explosives controls asked, sweating and keeping his thumb away from the trigger. The commander took out her M6C and put her hand out. Johnson held a BR55 Battle Rifle, a gun that fired short, automatic bursts of three rounds, fitted with a 2x scope. He re-adjusted his grip and took aim, hoping not to miss. The noises of the Grunts came closer, yet the general held the signal until they were literally at the doorstep. That's when she gave the signal.

"Now!"

"Gladly, Ma'am."

The trigger clicked, and the charges and the door and the Grunts revealed for half a second behind it became one in an orange- yellow blast of flame and shrapnel. The General was the first to look up and swear at the result of her strategy as she looked through a . Outside were twisted bodies of Grunts, but no Elites or any other covenant being. They had sent in their weakest for bait, and now they were wide open for an assault. Soon enough, the deep, broad voice of an Elite general sounded throughout the entire battle field, echoing in and out of the bunker. He was giving the order to attack. The floor underneath the soldiers trembled slightly as several hundred alien soldiers waddled, stalked and ran and charged towards the small bunker. The Commander aimed her pistol and shouted as loud as she could to the other marines as they readied their weapons.

"Cover the snipers and the men with the rocket launchers at all times! Leave the big targets to them!"

The first covenant species to come through was a group of Elites, followed by a group of Grunts. They opened fire.

And so did the Marines.

In seconds the bunker was a madhouse, with alien blood splattering the walls and plasma bolts flying askew. Staccato bursts of rapid fire weapons and plasma bolts discharged stabbed out in the air. The turrets made short work of the elites and the marines knocked down the grunts with short controlled bursts of their MA5Bs and their BR55s. Johnson ducked a carbine shot and gave the elite who had shot at him three rounds to the head. That Elite fell to the ground, dead, but many more Covenant came pouring down the steps and Johnson could tell that they were going to be outnumbered. But the strategy was working well. Funneled into a small gap, they were easy targets to the machine-gunners, and very few managed to get past the hailstorm of bullets. A rocket was fired off from an M19 SSM, blowing a complete chunk out of the bunker's floor and out of the Covenant soldiers. It reminded him of the same tactics that the three-hundred Spartans used against the Persians, long ago in ancient Thermopylae….

A plasma round seared past his face and he shot until he ran out of bullets. Ducking down, he reloaded and resumed fire. The moment he had done so, the marine to his left took a charged plasma pistol round to the face. Another, not too far away fell under a volley of needler rounds, a gun with an unusual shape and reloading system with pink crystal spikes that sprouted upwards from the top half like dorsal fins. Formed in a triangular shape, with the handle joining the two parts together like the rifle, the gun carried explosive 'needle' ammunition that once fired homed in on fleshy targets and exploded seconds later. The Marine took the whole magazine and exploded in a fountain of blood and shrapnel. The rate of covenant fire intensified and soon, soldiers started to fall.

Now they were getting mad.


	6. Renegade Elite Excerpt: 4

"They've started fighting. They're holding out at the moment but they'll be overwhelmed if we don't get there in time."

John looked at Sling.

"Get us down there, now!"

"Yes Sir!"

He pushed down the main thrusters and the pelican gained speed. John reached for the weapon stack and retrieved an MA5B assault rifle and an M6D pistol. He pulled out clips and loaded his weapons. He started to put additional clips in his belt when the pelican violently jolted and alarm klaxons sounded. The display screen showed a proximity alert. Sling swore and saw the mass of the object. In the cargo hold the marines had gotten up and crowded around Sling's own customized lift that led to the top of the ship. One soldier, Jacob had gotten in and taken himself up before John could stop him. The port door opened and the marine found himself topside.

From the viewpoint, John could see the marine bend down to adjust his boots to magnetize on the roof. He stood back up and barely had time to point his battle rifle before a large arm, a massive club of twisted, spiked metal, came into view and smashed him off the roof. A spray of red and a faint scream punctuated his death.

By the time the Marines could react to the loss of their comrade, John had already stacked his final magazine in his belt and stepped in the elevator. As he ascended, he heard Cortana say "Good luck" before rain and thunder greeted him in the outside world.

The fog would have hindered any normal man by sight, but John's Mark V neural interface cut through the mist and his radar was online. It showed a yellow sphere in the center, himself, and a massive red sphere that pinged enemy just behind him. He turned and dodged the twisted hunk of metal and avoided Jack's fate. He jumped and landed an inch away form the cockpit window. Looking up and steadying himself, John looked at his attacker.

A Lekgolo or a Hunter stood eight feet tall in combat state, but in full height they were gargantuans at twelve feet. Despite their size they are in fact hive creatures, made of multiple worm–like creatures that formed together to make a single body. They were covered on the legs, hips, torso, arms and head in strong, sapphire coloured armour like the Elite. On their right arm was a powerful fuel rod gun, the Covenant equivalent of a rocket launcher, wielded into their armour. Their left consisted of two massive impenetrable, metal alloy shields, one short thick attachment to the shoulder and a longer attachment to the forearm. Spines more than two feet long jutted out of its back, which were often used for goring enemies in a charge. The only un-protected spot in their armour was their neck and waist. This Hunter however, was different. Its two shields had fused together to make a singular piece of armour with a circular joint at the elbow. The shield itself was covered in serrated spikes all over, stained red from Jack's blood, and its fuel rod gun was even bigger, with a two major guns instead of one. The armour was covered in sharpened cones, which ran all over the body. Its eyes, barely noticeable on a normal hunter, glowed with a bright green, and under them, a shark toothed mouth gaped and snarled at John. John could see that something horrific had been done to the creature, and for a split-second, he almost pitied it.

A split-second was all the time the creature needed to raise its fuel rod gun and fire both barrels at him. Years in combat training and agility allowed John to jump past the barrage, yet land without slipping off the narrow ship. He brought his gun up and fired a ten-round burst at the hunter, the 7.62 mm bullets bouncing off its hide. He never meant to kill it, but to anger it. A hunter's main form of attack besides blow their enemies away was to charge and crush them with their massive shield arm. Should this rouse work, John would jump over the alien and watch as its cumbersome armour combined with its momentum would throw it off the ship.

The plan succeeded, and the Hunter made ready to charge. John backed up towards the cockpit window, and squatted. He looked at the pilot seat, and then Cortana. He heard the hunter roar, its footsteps pounding across the hull. He went to look away, but something stopped him.

He found himself turning, slowly, very slowly back to look at the cockpit window. Through it, and see, her. Rain dashed the pane and he went to wipe it, and after he did, he could see, and he was thankful, the essence of the one thing that made him keep fighting…

The Hunter's shield rose, and came back in a backhand strike to reduce John's assault rifle to gears and metal. The arm came back again, and struck another blow that crippled the MJOLNIR shields and slashed his arm. He didn't even have time to scream, as the force of the attack sent him from the top of the ship to the open sky. His left arm reached, and grabbed the nose of the Pelican. He hung for dear life, his grip so tight it dented the metal. He pressed his damaged arm against his chest.

He looked up and saw the hunter through the mist, its left arm made even redder from John's blood. Curiously, it craned its long neck up and leaned forward. Its green eyes squinted as it tried to see…him. John realized that the hunter couldn't see him. As strong as it looked, as powerful as it may be, its one flaw was its sight. John found himself looking at his M6D pistol, holstered to his right thigh. He could kill the hunter, but he would need to get a safe distance, and range to get a good aim at those eyes. His right arm was injured, yes, but Spartans were trained, no,_ made_ to survive in war conditions like this. He extended it, tentatively, and it hurt, but that didn't stop him. Through his neural interface, he shut off his vocal gaps in his mask to silence the sounds of him screaming so that the Hunter didn't hear him. He straightened his arm.

* * *

The turrets ripped through an Elite's shield and riddled his body with purple geysers of blood that continued to spurt even after he was dead. His death however allowed the temporary distraction of the Marines to allow ten jackals to slip through and form a phalanx with their energy shields. This meant that each jackal positioned its shield to the right, protecting the other jackal at the same time. They advanced, bullets bouncing off their shields and rebounding back to the marines. Johnson ordered the snipers to take them out, but before they could even look through their scopes, particle beam rifles, the covenant sniper rifle, fired and they fell. Johnson could see the new strategy now. As the snipers tried to shoot the jackals, they exposed themselves to the elite snipers. They needed cover, fast. Johnson saw the other soldiers supposing to protect them, dead or otherwise injured, badly.

The beam rifles whined and the last sniper fell, flying back and hitting the wall behind him from the very force of the weapon.

Johnson had to think fast. The Covenant did not take any prisoners, so if they surrendered, they were dead anyway. The Jackals continued to advance, shields hissing as they took the bullets and deflected them. They were running out of men. Johnson ran to the commander and found her, with two M7 sub-machine guns blazing in each hand.

"Ma'am, we're taking heavy losses. We're cornered!"

"Keep pinning them down! Tell the snipers to ignore the Jackals and leave that job to those with the battle rifles. Bring them down!"

A plasma round struck the general's right shoulder and she went down. Johnson grabbed her and dragged her behind a crate. He sat her up against it and studied the wound. The blast had impacted right on the part where the arm and shoulder bone connected, searing joint, nerve and muscle. The commander grunted in pain and Johnson reached for the first aid kit in his belt, which had only a small container of morphine left after bandaging up some wounded soldiers. He found a syringe and withdrew an appropriate dosage.

"You might want to hold still for a second, Ma'am."

She answered only by gritting her teeth and nodding her head. Johnson applied the morphine. Once the syringe was empty, he turned towards the med-pac attached to the wall.

And saw the glowing sphere of blue fire that was an armed plasma grenade, fly and attach itself to the centre of the Red Cross emblem. Johnson could only moan "Oh hell" before it detonated. By instinct or impulse, he remembered grabbing the commander's arm before seeing the bunker wall rush up and hit him on the forehead.


	7. Renegade Elite Excerpt: 5

Cortana was shaking, with fear. She couldn't control it. Was it normal for A.I. like her? The Chief was knocked off the edge by that hunter mutant and disappeared from view. He must be dead. No one else would have survived.

No.

No, he can't be dead. She wouldn't let herself believe it. And she was glad she didn't.

For she saw, through the bullet-proof pane, a hand, gloved in MJOLNIR armour with an M6D pistol in its grip, extend upwards and point at the dark mass just behind the window that was the hunter. The muzzle flashed like a firecracker as John held down the trigger, but the hunter barely flinched, the 12.7 mm rounds bouncing off its hide. The gun stopped firing, but remained pointed at the alien as a bright green light filled the air and shone through the cockpit. The light in the cockpit became brighter as the hunter lowered it at the front of the ship.

It was charging up its fuel rod gun. It was going to blow the entire front half of the ship off.

Cortana had been in life or death situations before, but this one seemed to top them all. She was in danger, and this time, even she had doubts that the chief was going to save them this time.

* * *

John began to turn, keeping both hands firmly gripped on the ship. Slowly, he moved his left hand towards his right, until they touched. Then, tightening his hold with his left hand and his left leg firmly planted next to it, he pivoted his body until he faced the ships nose. Placing both hands and feet on the very edge of the ship, he held for a moment. Then he jumped.

His suit increased the force of the jump by 20%, and he somersaulted over the surprised hunter as it discharged its shots in the air, hitting nothing but clouds. He landed two metres away, and faced the hunter. It glared at him, the fuel rod barrels hissing as they recharged. Thunder crashed, and the hunter growled. John's hand reached for the pistol.

The creature charged, mouth gaping wide and John fired at its head. The bullet grazed the upper jaw and it paused, moaning in pain. John pulled the trigger again, but was answered with an empty click. An empty chamber. The magazine slid and clattered on the ships hull. John reached for another, but ended up groping his belt and discovering that the hunter's blow that knocked him off the ship had also knocked his ammo straight from his belt in the process. John looked at his pistol and then the hunter, and saw something glint between the spikes of its mace-like arm.

It clanged and came into better view and John saw it.

An M6D magazine, wedged in the aliens armour. John somersaulted again over the hunter and reached for it but he missed. As he landed, he heard energy gather as the hunter turned and charged its fuel rod gun. He dodged and the first barrel fired at him, trailing plasma as it arced into the sky.

John holstered his pistol. He knew that without ammo, he would have to take on the creature with his bare hands. And reach the magazine in the process. He brought his arms up and placed himself in a combat pose. The hunter snarled and smashed its mace-club arm on the ship in anticipation. It pounded on the hull of the ship in a steady rhythm, goading him.

Pound.

John stood still, a statue.

Pound.

He slowed his breathing, regained his focus.

Pound.

He needed to get the timing just right.

Pound.

He flexed his hands, his gloves grinding as they rubbed against fingers and flesh.

Pound.

He moved.

Before it could bring its gun up, John was a blur, smashing himself into the hunter's flank. The force of the attack caught the hunter by surprise and it teetered back, back to the edge of the ship. John took advantage of this and clambered up the hunter's shield arm. His right hand grabbed the magazine that was wedged their and ripped it off as he reached its back. He went to place the magazine into the chamber when it flew out of his hand and into the air, as did the pelican.

They were falling. The Hunter had thrown itself off the ship as it had tried to shake him off. Cyborg and Alien fell together in the air. John tried to ignore the rushing wind and the adrenaline. He realized that they had gained a position that made John the cushion.

The Hunter was going to land on him.

It must have realized this too, as John could hear what sounded like chuckling from its mouth. He had to act fast.

The hunter swung its fuel rod arm and shook him off. John flew through the air, arms and legs spread out as he tried to lose momentum. Green plasma blasts shot at him and he rolled through the air, the bolts moving so close to him that they brought down his shields. They were both still at the same level but the ground was coming towards the both of them very fast.

John waited for his shield to recharge, then reached out with his injured arm and grabbed one of the hunter's spikes. Paying the pain no heed, he pulled and linked elbows with the arm. Swinging around, he grabbed the fuel-rod arm and linked elbows with that too. Maneuvering through the spikes that protruded from its back, the chief and the alien fell back to back, with the alien on the bottom. Adjusting his shield to maximum power, he waited for the moment of impact.


	8. Renegade Elite Excerpt: 6

A grunt, Ololoh studied the human bodies that lay incinerated and twisted from the plasma grenade that one of the elites threw. He shivered. He never liked being around dead bodies, especially those of his comrades. He kicked a helmet and it rolled to reveal human brains and matter still inside. A yelp escaped his breath filter mask before he even realized what it was and jumped two feet back.

An red Elite commander nearby grunted and continued searching and checking the bodies. The squad leader nearby shouted in a loud rumbling voice.

"Check the corpses and kill anyone that still has a pulse." And with that he left to report to the general.

Ololoh picked up the plasma pistol that he dropped and stepped over the helmet with care. As he did so, he heard a scream that shook him to the core and turned to look. The elite who had seen him jump at the helmet had found a human that was still alive. Grabbing him by the neck with one hand, he smashed his other hand in a fist-shape into the human's face. Normally, one punch from an Elite was enough to kill a normal human being, but to the Elite's surprise and Ololoh's horror, he was still alive. The human, struggling to break free, started to curse at the elite.

"Is that all you've got? Come on, you son of a bitch!" He reached for his belt with his left hand and took out one of those projectile pistols that humans liked to use and aimed it at the elite's face. It made a loud bang and Ololoh jumped and hid behind a sandbag wall. He heard the Elite roar in anger and he peeked out to see him, still holding the human with one hand but with an energy sword in his other hand.

The energy sword was a ceremonial and honorary weapon to the Elites. Only certain elites such as the generals, the commanders and the occasional squad leader were allowed to wield such a weapon. Two flat blades arced forward from the hilt on both sides and connected at one point in front of the handle, then separating and extending another two feet at the same length .The elite slashed the thee foot long weapon upwards. A spray of human blood landed on the walls as one blade severed the human's firearm at the shoulder.

Oloh watched in awe and fear as the plasma weapon came back and sliced through the human's left shoulder and out of his waist slicing him clean in two. More blood flew and Oloh saw the Elite, with the human's head, shoulder and arm and side hanging from his hand. The legs lay, twitching on the floor. Oloh could see the insides of the human, charred and dripping, a perfect cut-away view of the human's body, heart, lungs, liver, everything. The Elite snarled in disgust and dropped what was left of the human to the ground, then saw Ololoh. Ololoh shivered and hid behind the wall, trembling. It was no use.

He heard the Elite's footsteps, each one misplacing his heartbeat with a dull thud until he felt his presence, towering over him. His trembling increased as he looked up and saw the Elite. His energy sword was still activated and he could smell the ozone and the static emanating from it. The elite spoke.

"What is your name, puny alien?"

Ololoh stuttered and the Elite lifted its energy sword few inches. O'loh blurted out.

"Ololoh, sir! Please don't hurt me!"

The elite chuckled and clicked its mandibles, all more causing the grunt to shake more.

"Oh, I'm not going to hurt you,"- Ololoh gave a sigh of relief- "If you have the guts to finish off any other of these humans that are still alive."

"What?"

"You heard me. You have a weapon, and I am tired after such a fantastic victory. I must say, I threw that plasma grenade well, did I not?"

_So it was him who threw the grenade! _O'loh thought as he responded, nodding his head over excitedly.

"Yes, sir, I mean, Excellency!"

"Good. Now do me a favor and finish the check, will you? I will now go and receive praise from the general." It was an order, so he had to follow it. The commander turned and O'loh once again picked his plasma pistol.

"Oh, and Ololoh?"

"Yes?" Ololoh turned and saw the commander, who was placing his energy sword back into his belt.

"If I find no blood from those two bodies over there,"- He said, pointing at two humans lying down on the ground in the corner of the bunker.-"I will carve such a monument of your body that the Prophets will display it in the council chamber, and I will enjoy it."

He marched out of the bunker chuckling with glee.

Ololoh swallowed a loud gulp that echoed throughout the building and waddled on his stubby legs towards the seemingly harmless bodies. He reached them and leveled his pistol at the dark-coloured one.

* * *

The footsteps of the Grunt woke Johnson up before it reached him, but he lay still. He knew the general was awake also, lying next to him and signaling him to be quiet while that marine, Hawkins, was being butchered by that Elite. Now this grunt, Ololoh, was about to kill them. He closed his eyes and was about to wish that the chief came in time when he heard the grunt's high voice chatter.

"I can't do it. Oh, I can't do it." Johnson heard a clatter as the plasma pistol fell to the floor, and the grunt's breath came out in short, panicky whines.

"What do I do, what do I do? If I don't do it, that Elite will skin me alive. Yes, I should do it."

There was a pause.

"But what if they jump up and attack me? What if they're still alive? Oh help!"

The grunt continued to mumble and babble about what other horrific fates awaited him and ran in circles, becoming more distracted by the minute. Johnson and the commander saw their chance.

"Oh, how am I going to explain to the commander what has been going on all this time. I can't tell him I'm a coward! Oh no, oh no oh no!"

Finally, the grunt calmed down and looked back at where the general and Johnson were. They were gone.

Before Ololoh could start panicking again, Johnson came out from behind a crate and placed his hand partly over the filter of the grunt's mask, partially smothering him. The grunt yelped and the commander held her M6C pistol to his face. One of the Elite guards that stood with a carbine, a powerful long barreled weapon with a reloading system that entered the top of the gun, and a semi-circular design, shouted loudly.

"What is going on down there?"-And then a murmur-"Probably tripped over another body."

Johnson brought his head down and whispered in the Grunt's ear hole.

"Tell him nothing's wrong."

The grunt shouted back as Johnson's hand came away.

"Nothing! Everything's fine, just fine!"

A murmur was heard from another Elite, and then silence. All three sighed their relief, Ololoh because he didn't want that elite commander to see him. Johnson looked at the commander.

"Now what?" he whispered.

"Can you still walk?" asked the commander, still pointing the gun at the grunt.

"Yes. A few bruises, plus a broken tooth, but I'll live. You? What about your arm?"

The commander found some rags from a nearby soldier and tore them up. While Johnson held the pistol at the grunt, she wrapped the makeshift bandage around her shoulder.

"I'll be fine."

Johnson looked at the small alien and whispered again, but more menacingly.

"Listen. As much as I despise your kind, there is no sense whatsoever if I killed you and let your friends know about us, but if I let you go, I know the minute you set one toe out there, you'll reveal us and be punished…." The Grunt looked up. "For your cowardice by that nasty elite you got shaken up by, am I right?"

O'loh gave a short squeak and nodded his head.

"Any ideas?" asked the commander, holstering a sub-machine gun and four frags. Johnson did the same, keeping his eye on the grunt as he pondered. Suddenly, it's eyes sparked and it jumped up and down before calming itself down and saying.

"Idea! A good one! You will like this."


	9. Renegade Elite Excerpt: 7

_Look at you, broken, shattered. Once so strong and now so weak. I find it surprising that the Covenant haven't even killed you yet. Imagine their surprise when the general finds you, defenseless and half-dead on the ground. It pains me to know that he will be killing you instead of me. That is, if you survive my pet's wraith._

John blinked his eyes and so did his interface. His HUD blinked and his shields recharged. He studied his health meter and groaned as three yellow bars remained. He was still alive, but his head swam. He must have rolled away from the hunter sometime after they landed, for it lay in a massive crater ten meters away.

_Right now you are beginning to wonder who I am and what is my business in invading your futile mind? I may as well tell you before I wake my hunter up, kill some time._

_My familiars call me Justice. Yes, Justice. What a name indeed. I gave it myself. Justice. _

_Justice has arrived at last._

_My introductions made, I shall continue. _

_I serve as one who stands alone. A martyr and a hero to all who stand with me. My life serves as the one who will destroy all and rule forever. My vengeance to those who have shaped me will burn the stars and smite any who dare defy me. I shall start with you._

_Yes, you. I know all about you. Your allies. Your life. Your home. Your love._

Love? What was he talking about?

_You don't yet know? She is right there. She is with you. Inside you. Your love does not come immediately, but it creeps to you. It latches to you like a parasite. Never letting go. And deep inside, you know who. _

_Love. A disgusting and horrid thing. It is your kind's best strength and your best weakness. Too much makes you blind and compassionate. Too little makes you cold, and alone. _

_Just when will you humans understand how useless love truly is? Nothing will matter in your lives until you have gained what you have sought and after that, what else? Your life to me itself looks so pointless. Do you not get tired of doing good? I could just kill you right **NOW!**_

Pain. Pain inside. Ripping into his head. What was going on?

Images. Johnson. Captain Keyes, the man he failed to save. Cortana?

The ripping stops, for a moment.

_Yessssss. So strong! Feel your passion so I can cut it from your heart like the blade to the cord!._

He fought. He tried to block the torture out. Memories cycled through his head. Power. His first day in training. Becoming a Spartan. Fighting an Elite with his bare hands. Screams. He was losing.

No.

Static woke him up but the pain doubled.

"Chief? Can you hear me? Where are you?"

A gasp. He was breathing, but erratically. The thing was killing him and it was enjoying it.

"What's going on? Chief!"

_Oh what fun!_

He tried to contact Cortana. Tell her what was going on. Who was he?

_Seeing you die slowly is so appealing to me. _

Ignore him. Think of Cortana. Think of Cortana.

_What the? How…?_

The presence left immediately. Consciousness awoke him like cold water to the face and he lurched forward. His breathing was normal again. His HUD displayed his vitals that were calming down.

He managed to ease himself up onto his feet despite the pain. He moved about and checked if nothing was broken, except of course his arm, which still hurt. He decided to flex it again and a scream filled the smoking sky as he doubled over in pain. He ripped off the armour that covered his arm and saw blood welling up from where the hunter's blades had sliced through. Reaching for his belt, he took out a small medical kit box and injected the wound with biofoam, before bandaging the wound up.

He shook his head.

_What the hell was that thing?_ _New covenant intelligence perhaps? Or something else. And what kind of a name is Justice? How did he control that hunter?_

He thought as he stood up and flexed his healed arm. It still hurt but the biofoam was already beginning its work. He injected a health stimulant and his health bar increased by three points. He would still need to be looked at after the battle, but until then he had to make do with what he had.

_What could it want with me? And most importantly, why did it leave when I thought about Cortana?_

A roar, a booming sound ending with a screech echoed through the air. The Spartan looked to see the Hunter rise up from the two foot deep crater that it made when it fell. Shaking itself like a dog, the beast turned and set its eyes upon John. Despite the distance that they had fallen, John was dismayed to see that the only damage that it had suffered was nothing more than scratches and gashes to its heavily plated armor. John tried to look for any chinks or cracks but saw only the head that provided the main weakness. John had no weapons and the hunter still had its dual barreled fuel rod gun that was now beginning and continued to glow with every ragged breath that escaped the hunter's mouth. John's eyes darted from rock to smoldering ship remains, anything that would make for a weapon. Nothing.

Just his wit and his strength. Perfect. The Spartan could do no more than ready himself for the attack

The hunter charged towards John, swinging its mace arm and bearing it down towards John's head. John ducked the mace and slammed his elbow into the creature side, hard. The Hunter grunted and swung around with its cannon arm to sweep John up from the ground, only to see him jump, pivot and slam his right foot in its face. It staggered and John leapt onto its chest. The extra weight meant too much for the hunter and it fell to the ground. John, still on its chest converted his hand into a round shaped object and smashed it into the beast's face. Orange-green blood splattered on John's visor and he brought it up and back down again. They rolled, kicking and struggling to get the upper hand, until John remained on top. The Hunter's screams became muffled as John smashed his fist into the creature's jaw again and again. The mouth opened up and John grabbed the bottom jaw. Using his superior strength, he pulled.

One joint went.

Then another.

A few tendons snapped.

Bone began to crack.

Joints and muscles broke as the Spartan pulled.

The Hunter tried to smash him off with its club. Then it aimed its gun at him. John saw it and with his left foot, struck and pinned the arm down. The fuel rod went off and John felt the gun vibrate under his feet and through its body. The hunter began to panic. It tried to gnaw his hand off and John could feel the teeth start to slice through his armored hand and wrist. His shields flashed a warning but John continued to pull. The Hunter thrashed and shook its head, gnashing away, trying to hurt the Spartan before he could.

John twisted his hand.

The entire bottom jaw came away with a gut wrenching _rip_. The Hunter wailed and screamed as John pulled it out, blood and gore flying everywhere. Jumping off, with the jaw still in his hand, he watched the Hunter flail in its death-throes. It rolled over and became still at last.

John breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment he felt sorry for the creature, for what had been done to it and for what he had to do to kill. Shivering, he dropped the toothed jaw that dripped orange to the ground. It landed with a dull thud next to something.

An obscure object that shone when light came upon it. Wiping the dust away, he saw it clearly; the claw like device that glowed emerald.

A plasma pistol.

With an angry groan the hunter rose up again and aimed its gun at John. Green energy gathered and fired. John rolled, picked up the pistol, held down the trigger to over-charge it and shot the bolt into the hunters gaping, bloody maw.

The bolt not only fried its head, the impact of the glowing missile snapped its neck back with a sickening wet crunch. The Hunter fell forwards and came to rest, never to stand again.

John looked on, and then walked away.

It was not long until he saw the purple light that was the Covenant camp. He could see movement not far off and knew it wasn't abandoned. Studying his newfound weapon, he pondered of how such a small weapon had saved him from a horrible fate. Crackles and hisses played out through his ears and John tapped his helmet to adjust the signal.

"Chief? Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"You're alive! Are you hurt? You sound hurt to me. Or maybe it's the signal."

"The most of our troubles is dead ten feet away from me."

"What about your arm? I saw-"

"My arm is fine."

"Oh, good. Where are you now?"

John assessed the distance to the camp through his neural interface.

"One kilometer south of the enemy base. I'm going in."

"Wait, Chief!-"

"I'll see you there."

"Fine then. Good luck. Oh and by the way, one of the Elite generals seems to have a surprise for you. Better watch your back."

"I will."

"Be careful."

John turned off the comm-link.

He turned and raced towards the camp, his plasma pistol at the ready.


	10. Renegade Elite Excerpt: 8

"What the hell, is that?" Johnson could only watch as the Grunt waddled away and after five minutes, came back with what looked like an over-sized cradle. The object was nine feet long, and five feet long. The Grunt had struggled to fit the thing through the bunker door in the first place.

The 'cradle' floated freely four feet above the ground thanks to the gravity pads underneath. It was vaguely oval, with struts that overlapped each other and made a diamond like pattern on the outside. At first, Johnson wondered why the thing had so many holes in it and was about to ask how it was going to help when the grunt stopped, approached it from the side and pressed a small button in the centre of the mechanism. At first, nothing happened, when, slowly, a very faint veil of blue light appeared and formed the same shape of the cradle fifty centimeters up from the bottom and the sides. The commander touched the veil and to her surprise, found firm resistance as it glowed red to her touch. The Grunt whispered, giddily at first but soon the two humans were able to make out what it said.

"We use this to carry out honored dead, weapons, even your dead. Big enough for you both?"

They both vaulted them selves and found themselves next to each other. The gravity outlet made them snug as they lay down next to each other, but otherwise both of them fitted in. Johnson tried to hide his embarrassment as he found himself close to the commander. Shaking it out of his mind, he poked his head out at the grunt that stood to check if the guards hadn't noticed.

"This better work. If this is my first mistake, it'll be my last, but the moment you blow our cover, I'll use you as a body shield."

The Grunt nodded and tapped another control, this time on the outside of the carrier. With a soft hiss, one veil appeared and wiped over the top of the carrier, followed by another, and another. The veils continued to wipe over one another until both Johnson and the commander saw the outside world with blurred shapes and a purple-bluish haze. Johnson felt weird in the head and knew they were moving. The commander turned her head and looked at Johnson.

"About that grunt,"

"What I said was the least I was going to do to him, Ma'am."

"Not that, about his trust."

"He's probably scared shitless from that elite commander. We can use that to keep him from stabbing us in the back."

"Form a partnership between our kind and theirs? Maybe if we convinced them about the rings that their religion was hunting for, actually were. Maybe we might stand a chance against the Covenant. "

A thud jolted the carrier and a hushed "sorry!" could be heard from Ololoh as pissed off Jackals hissed and cursed back.

"In good time perhaps, Ma'am." replied Johnson as he tried to peer through the plasma shielding and see what was going on.

"Ololoh!"

Ololoh turned and saw the elite commander, 'Zenahree, as was his name he heard from the guards conversing as he carried the humans out, stride away from speaking with the general, Ushana 'Tenakuree and approach him. He seemed much taller outside, without the crowding bunker walls. The Elite easily towered over him.

"What are you doing, carrying corpses out of the bunker without the general's permission?"

At mention of his rank, 'Tenakuree himself turned his eyes upon the two. As Ololoh tried to figure out an excuse, he could feel his gaze pierce his side as easily as an energy sword upon his flesh.

"I, um, well, funny you should mention that because I um, _don't know?"_ He added quietly at the end, so quiet that both elites didn't hear him.

"What? Answer me, little Unggoy! Why are you carrying out your own orders, against the general's will, and mine!" strained the angry 'Zenaharee, reaching for his energy sword. One thought crossed Ololoh's mind and he shouted at the top of his voice. "The Prophet of Truth ordered me too!"

More deafening was the silence that followed his desperate response than the laughter of both Elites that came after. 'Tenakuree spoke.

"Oh really? And suppose his holiness had any reason to make **you **carry out this order, rather than one of us, hmm?"

Ololoh twiddled his claws, and then carried on.

"He, thought you yourselves were not, capable enough, to carry out such a deed. He thinks you are….…" he pondered for a moment, then spoke again. " a whole lot of bastards!"

'Zenaharee snarled in surprise and even 'Tenakuree flinched at those words. Ololoh could hardly believe it himself, and tried to ignore the intense wave of pleasure and adrenaline as he hoped that the plan would work.

"How?" Tenakuree questioned. 'Zenahuree however wasn't easily persuaded.

"Bah! He is trying to trick you! Shall I dispose of him for such insolence. Surely this grunt has committed an offence, and made an attempt to break our Covenant!"

"Very well." Ololoh knew the general was angry.

"Take the bodies with you as well."

The commander sneered, and reached down towards Ololoh. The grunt felt pain as his hand grasped the top of his methane pack and lifted him two feet above the ground. His other hand grabbed the corpse carrier and he marched towards a group of cuboid-like weapon holders. Ololoh struggled, but with no avail.

The elite dropped Ololoh and shoved the carrier to the side. He drew out his energy sword and Ololoh shivered as the blade sprang from its handle and shimmered with plasma. He started to beg again.

"Please, I'm telling you the truth. The Prophet told me himself. He thinks your kind's loyalty is starting to become corrupt. And besides, I know how much your kind despises us naturally and all that, but isn't it against your rules to kill your own allies?"

Zenaharee studied his energy sword and continued as he waved it slowly through the air.

"True, but our kind is our allies, and you are not one of us. Therefore, we can do to you whatever we please. I for one, despise your kind. Why the prophets chose you as worthy soldiers, I will never understand."

"Truth saw us for what we could do, not for our clumsiness."

"Oh? And to think of what you would do, when outnumbered. You cower and flee before such weaklings, bringing the Covenant to shame. **We** stand and fight to our dying breath, not run back to our masters. Such lack of nobility in your kind disgusts me. Are you full of shame at this very moment?"

The Grunt could not reply.

"You should be. You should be ashamed of your kind for being unable to make a change. You should be ashamed of your kind for being unable to stop the demon and his followers. You should be ashamed of your kind, for being unable to stop them from destroying Halo and preventing our great journey!"

The grunt did feel ashamed. He fell to his knees as Zenaharee raised his energy sword.

"There is no room for cowards in our Covenant."

Johnson had heard enough. Despite the outside world being hidden through the plasma shielding, surprisingly he could hear perfectly. He knew the grunt was in trouble, and though he knew he was going to going to later regret it, he wasn't about to let him die.

He turned and tried to reach down between the narrow gap in the center where the controls were, only to find the Commander already there. The shielding came away; Johnson stood up, hopped out of the carrier, yanked an M7 from his belt and pointed it at the Elites head. The Commander seemed to be in the same mind as his as she drew out her own machine gun as well. Johnson was the first to start talking.

"Now, I don't know about him, but this grunt here saved both our lives, and considering how many SMG rounds your shields can take before we kill you, you might want to consider keeping you mandibles shut and dropping the grunt, and that sword, on the ground. Now."

The elite looked at Johnson, then the commander, then back at the grunt.

The grunt fell first, but the energy sword, vanished.

Johnson swore as he forgot how fast elites were, and how much they loved their swords.

Two halves of both Johnsons and the commanders M7 clattered to the floor, smoking and fizzling where the sword cut through. The elite laughed softly and lifted his weapon above his head.

"I have 8 charges left in my blade. That is just enough to cut you into quarters,"-pointing at Johnson-"impale the pretty face"-at the commander- "and deal with this scum!" and finally at the grunt.

For a second, no-one moved. If the grunt escaped, he would blow their cover, but if they tried to escape, they would be open targets to every single covenant soldier less than fifty feet away from where they were. Johnson stared at the elite.

"That depends if you're able to take me down first!" The elite could only snarl in surprise as the sergeant yelled and rugby-tackled the elite. Winded, its hand dropped the energy sword as it tried to push Johnson off his chest. Undeterred, the sergeant grabbed the red chest plate and attempted to rip it off. A purple fist slammed into the side of his head, just enough to knock him off and send him rolling onto the floor.

His ear stung like hell but he still managed to get up and raise his fists up to take on the elite. The elite chuckled and Johnson yelled to the commander and the grunt.

"Ololoh, get her out of here!" Johnson turned back to the elite just as it raised its foot and planted it firmly into his chest. Stunned, Johnson could barely move as the elite struck his fist into his jaw. Falling to the ground, he could only watch as the elite coughed up purple blood, wiped its mouth and picked his sword handle up. Energy crackled as the blades lanced out of its captor and extended three feet into the air. Another hand snatched Johnson up by the collar up and he knew he was about to die.

TBC

**A/N: Sorry to cut it short there- Don't worry, John shows up in the nick of time and saves the day.**

**P.S. The 'commander' is Miranda Keyes. Don't ask me why she's on the frontline- I just did it for dramatic effect**

**This is an earlier version of the Renegade Elite Story- hence the difference in antagonists, character concepts and events etc.**

**Hope you liked**


	11. Halo Renegade Elite 2:1

**A/N: This is the second version of the Renegade Elite- a different opening to the first one.**

**This is when I decided to redo the story and change some things around to make the plot progress much better with more characters vital to the plot and a more immense story. This is where Jack is introduced for the first time.**

**Enjoy! Expect melancholy, long winded descriptions and some other fifteen year old writer's dribble**

**Prologue:**

The light-wand in Pyarus Toiron's hand was beginning to weigh down his arm. His ragged gasps for air in the dark, dusty caverns of the underground shrine echoed and repeated themselves throughout every corner and crossroad.

_This place seems to be dead, as I will be soon_, the prophet thought as the sapphire glow of his wand revealed a sharp turn to the left. Pyarus took it, his voluminous indigo robes flapping like wings behind him.

The passageway came to a crossroad, a paths stretching in all directions like spokes of a wheel.

His lizard-like feet padded to a halt with a sound of skin stamping on metal, leaving him standing in the middle of the crossroads.

He milled around, his heart almost an upbeat rhythm of drums pumping hot blood through thin weak veins and arteries. He felt as though his vessels would simply burst, seeping blood into his body and he would die drowning in it, a slow, unpleasant death.

A more merciful fate than the one that awaited him from his pursuer

Memories, flashes of past emotions and feelings showed the right way to his mind and he flew through the northeast passageway without a sound, save the dim hum of his light-wand. The passageway cut to a narrow corridor. The light of his wand touched and revealed hieroglyphs, writings and lines of white blue. Pyarus had to blink to adjust his eyes to the new level of intense light that turned the dim corridor to a hallway of white tinged blue.

In doing so, it lit up his face, his surprised expression only so much as peeking through wrinkles of age. Skin crumpled under his dark blue eyes. His pupils were milky blue, hinting blindness, but unlike humans, he could see fine. His tendrils dangling under his chin even bore scars of age as well. His flat lips parted as he drew in a breath of excitement to reveal pale yellow teeth. His robe hung on skinny arms, a small hand pronouncing itself from each sleeve. Three long, bony fingers ended with filed claws, one clutching a dim metal handle of a light-wand. He lowered it and gazed at the spectacle that shone before him.

It seemed almost too beautiful to comprehend. To think that the gracious gods, the forerunners, would go to all this trouble, to leave such a hallmark of their beauty behind? Regret stung his heart as he realised that despite his two year exile, here on this planet full of treasures, he never had time to properly study this section of Forerunner lore, written on the walls, filling his soul full of harmony, reverence, respect, and inner peace. Surely, if he could listen hard enough, he could hear the gods almost whispering to him. Words of lore. Wonder. Power. Sentience.

An Equilibrium of life and death as he knew it.

He could practically feel the energy pulsate through his body. He could feel the light-wand's wavering energy as its failsafe began to activate, rendering the beam a colourless bulb as it switched itself off. He could feel the robes, damp with his sweat from early panic and fear, the weight on his shaking legs and arms. He could feel a cool iron press itself on his right thigh. His plasma pistol.

Listening to the sound of gentleness uplifting his soul, his three fingered hand grasped the handle grip of the small, c-shaped pistol. His index found the trigger, yet his eyes were closed. He didn't need them open. He knew what to do.

Lifting it to his shoulder, he cleared his lungs of fear and doubt. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. His grip was firm yet his mind was light. Clear. He turned.

And shot at the black figure that was about to smash its fist through his skull.

Green plasma whined and spat static as they made contact with the beings 'skin' and it recoiled in surprise. Not pain. Just surprise.

It couldn't feel pain anymore, and from the sound of annoyance that lowered the tone of its roar, it didn't want to be reminded of it either. Pyarus ran again, leaving the corridor in darkness as it deactivated itself. The monster was distracted. Good. But for how long?

He knew now where to go. The voices that filled him with clarity had also jogged his memory of where the central control room was. It was simply like stopping to get directions, and being reminded of who you were at the same time. Unlikely, he thought, but essential.

Pyarus ran. He ran as fast as his wiry legs could propel him in the shadowy labyrinth. _Here, _and _here! _Shouted the voice that spoke terror into his mind told him where to go. Finally, a Light? Yes!

How elation had gripped his heart, shaken loose by the sound of fast approaching footsteps. It was getting closer. The light was a console, blinking with holographic lights and shapes too archaic to be translated by any scribe known in the Covenant, except Pyarus. It stood to the left of an immense door, 50 feet across and 30 feet tall. The door consisted on three neat slides that met in the centre. Each slide rose from three corners of the frame. It was reinforced with an alloy so powerful that not even a Covenant energy missile could penetrate it. He had to open it using the console.

He approached the terminal console; its lights flickered and pulsed at a higher rate as they 'saw' his approach. He entered a code into the central 'pattern' and the console chimed a request. A voiceprint code was all that was required. Yet, with the approaching being, it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do to slow himself down at the moment…..

"Yield." The console distorted into two block shapes moving apart and the door opened. He leapt through the opening that appeared through the shifting doors. Frantically, he leapt to the console that was situated inside the chamber and entered the close code. The doors halted with a grating that suggested millennia without use, and then shifted back to their dormant forms.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips, and he turned to marvel at the eminence that shone and waned in the centre of the shrine. The eminence assorted itself from a gigantic sphere. The 'shrine' was built to compensate the sphere's size, a domed roof that rose so high that Pyarus had to squint to look at the ceiling. He stood upon a glass-crete walkway that held him aloft from a 200km fall into an abyss. The sphere gave off an amethyst-indigo light that set the room in a grace that seemed so gentle and holy that any lesser being than Pyarus would have fallen to their knees and wept for its glory.

Pyarus traversed the walkway to the sphere, where another holo-console stationed as an observation viewport. A small flight of steps led up to the viewport, and Pyarus ran up it. Dropping his light-wand, his fingers danced, pattered and pressed invisible buttons and codes. Frequency whined and crackled as he searched for the contact that he had so long ago hidden. It was shielded by so many firewalls, he had to hack through. His head seemed to burn as he frantically tried to remember the failsafe codes to smash through these stupid firewalls and find the link to the right frequency...

The power flickered and for a brief second, his search was in vain as the holo-field shorted out. He was relieved to find it only to be temporary. The holo-generator resumed power and then resumed its search. He was relieved and yet terrified at the same time.

It was breaking through.

_I am fury in its greatest. I am death given life. I am the knife that cleaves the heart of the brave and turns it to fear. I am your predator._

_And you are my prey._

_You think you can stop me? Can you stop me? Can these doors stop me? Can these sentinels with their pathetic lasers stop me?_

_Can anything stop me?_

A pause of silence, as if it was reflecting on its past and seemed to regret the things it had done. The question opened a padlock to a lapse of painful memories.

_Can anything stop me?_

It wanted to let it all go. He was living a dream in his conquest for such power and yet a nightmare for the things he had done. He could look back and see such pain...

But he did not have that luxury.

He didn't want pain.

_Can anything stop me?_

He looked at the sentinels that the foolish prophet had placed out to hold him back. He willed them to explode.

They did.

Their electromagnetic pulses sputtered and tore themselves apart as the remains clattered to the floor, sparking their last, and then died.

A mad gleeful smile from the lust of violence spread through his mind.

_No._

_Nothing can stop me._

_At last!_

"Yes!" he exclaimed joyously at the console as it beeped positive. It had found the link.

Quickly, he double-tapped the go symbol and it initiated the transmission.

_Hurry. Please hurry with the damn link already..._

The pounding began. The sentinels had held the beast back only so long.

The holo-panel gave birth to a polygonal, static lit shape, that dimed and formed into a robed crown adorned prophet, sitting on a throne that sat in the air; the gravity propulsion hum could be heard from the comm. itself. A jewelled mantelpiece perched on his shoulder as a symbol of pride and power. Pyarus could practically feel the 'energy' of order and arrogance from him. He gathered himself, stepped back so that the signaller could see him and took a bow so deep that he could see his sweat imbedded footprints on the floor.

"Great and noble Prophet of Truth, I beseech ye for forgiveness for such a late message."

The look of shock that washed over Truth's face easily told Pyarus that he wasn't happy to see him. He raised his head and spoke in his clear, broad voice. His tone could be read as 'How dare you!'

"What in the name of the high council is this blasphemy? Why have you-."

"Please, Your Honour!" Pyarus implored with urgency to the prophet, for the pounding was getting louder.

"I have no time to relay how I found this link. I know I am an exile but I come with a message and a warning!"

"That indeed you are an exile. Speak! Before I terminate this link for good!"

Pyarus turned to look at the door, which was beginning to sport some ugly bulges that were steadily getting larger with each pound that struck in earnest in a heavy drum-like crescendo as metallic fists hit again and again.

His fate would be decided in a manner of seconds. He spun to face the hologram projector; to look at Truth.

"What is going on?"

"Your holiness, I have done a terrible thing. I have made a monster that will kill me and it has you in its sight. The whole covenant, home worlds, planets, Earth, the humans, everything will burn in its path. I have contacted you especially to warn you, and everyone else of him!"

"How is this possible? Is it Flood?"

Pyarus's frantic eyes told the prophet half the answer before he said it.

"No, something much worse!"

A moan of twisted metal told Pyarus that one door was beginning to come apart. Truth could see it too.

"Very well, 'old friend', what are you suggesting for our best course of action against this 'fiend' you have unleashed?"

Pyarus risked a glimpse at the door to see it on the verge of coming apart.

"Flee." He said, his hand slowly reaching for his plasma pistol. Take everything and everyone with you. Flee as far away as you can. Go anywhere, I tell you, just as far away from the Halo ring as far as you can!"

"And risk halting our laments for its destruction, because of this, this monster? I think not!"

Pyarus looked at Truth, taking his eye off the door for only a few seconds.

"What?"

"I think that your 'monster' has very little to understand about us if your **assumption **is made correct!" Outrage gripped his voice like a hand around a human's neck.

"No enemy, I tell you this, no enemy has ever withstood the might of the Covenant! Your monster may kill you, but since when would we care about some exile?"

"No, no please..."

"Begging for your life does not become a prophet. I was right to expel you."

"You don't understand! I only meant to warn you. The coming of all death in the universe is nigh! Please!"

"Goodbye, Pyarus Toiron. May your disgraced soul find honour in resting with the other traitors to our Covenant."

"NO!"

He could only say no, because his despair made him so. He could only watch as Truth's hand hovered over his console attached to the chair, and then stopped. Truth was looking at something.

He was staring in his direction, this he was sure of, but not at him.

He was staring at something behind him.

As slow as it took for him to speak, so quick with dread did it dawn upon him that the monster was standing behind him.

"Oh, no."

"Hello, Pyarus."

Its voice was horrible. Robotic, sinister, and horrible.

"No please no, I'll give anything you want, just please, don't kill me."

"I expected you to give me the thing I wanted a long time ago. Now, it has led to this, and you still will not give it to me."

"I have told you that it's impossible! Please! You can still stop yourself from doing this. You're hurting yourself with every enhancement that is needed to process the energy in the first place!"

"Ambient Blaze had informed me that only you would know the last secrets. Give it to me, and your death will be painless. This I can promise."

Pyarus stood, rigid, keeping his back turned to the monster. He could not compose himself to turn and see it.

"You were once an honourable warrior." He mused fearfully as a hand, black, metallic and twisted laid on his shoulder. "But your anger and selfishness murdered that warrior and replaced it with a madman."

He shivered as the skeletal hand squeezed into his shoulder. Any tighter and his shoulder bone would be crushed.

"Come now, Pyarus, we used to be such friends. To think that I would place my trust in someone who would warn my prey of their imminent destruction ..."

The shadow moved and Pyarus could tell it was looking at the hologram. Truth sat defiant on his throne, but he could tell that he was afraid. It directed its voice to him, and the horror and repulsion spelt fear in Truth's eyes.

"Know terror, fool. For I am pure savagery in its most glorious form. Heed this warning and cower, for my vengeance knows no bounds!"

With a roar that Pyarus was sure made the core shake, the monster's other hand clutched the back of his head and brought it down on the communications pedestal. Hard.

He saw his own blood and darkness became Pyarus's place of rest.


	12. Halo Renegade Elite 2: 2

The battle rifle's three round burst slammed into the cranium of a Brute Captain, its mighty ape-like body swayed as it fell the ground, dead. Its trigger finger spasmed and the grenade launcher it was carrying fired its last three shells next to the beast's foot, and everything seemed to explode.

When the dust cleared, all was but red-purple guts and smoking gun barrels as the brute was blown to pieces. Sgt Avery Johnson smiled. He was thinking about setting up a record for how many brutes he had managed to kill by headshots, but a lance-like round from a particle beam rifle that sparked when it hit the ground next to his feet changed his mind.

Ducking behind a boulder that was scarred by plasma bolts, he thumbed the magazine catch and the empty case fell to the ground in a puff of dust. Fingering through his magazine pouch, he found one and pushed it into the slot. The ammo counter below the scope beeped 36, the amount of rounds the gun could hold and he turned to fire again.

Two bursts knocked the annoying Jackal sniper out of the tree and it fell ten meters to its death.

A marine's cheery voice praised him.

"Nice one, sir!"

Johnson looked at what was once his squad of eight in cover behind rocks similar to his own, which were now six. They had only suffered two casualties. Both would be missed, but until then they had a mission to complete. He bellowed an order, and they moved out.

The planet was Exodus II, a desert grassland planet that was as dry as it was hostile. The occasional clumps of trees easily hid snipers and reinforcements from the Covenant stronghold. They had been using boulders and rocks as cover to sneak up to the Covenant Base that was set up half a mile from where they had originally landed.

There were three routes, counting one aerial assault flight path, one plain that led straight to the base, and the mountain pathway. ONI was especially clear on its orders though; their aim was to steadily relieve the planet of Covenant control, one stronghold at a time.

The plain was guarded by Covenant military, armed to the teeth with plasma weapons and missile launchers.

The aerial course had initially failed, with the original longsword fighter bombardment cut dramatically short by the appearance of four legged 2 kilometre tall scarab tanks. Hours later, the only reasonable course to the base with suitable cover and without detection was the mountain route. The base itself had its 'back' to a mountain wall, which in turn had become the resting place of the standby scarabs. The route itself connected to the 'wall', and the base's secret entrance. A back door, no doubt

The plan which was decided after scouts had reported this was to take out the scarabs while they were recharging, then signal the longswords hovering in orbit to re-commence the bombardment while a Pelican lands to extract the team. They then go home happy, chill out in the medical frigate, and have some beer, as Johnson stated himself in the briefing. This was followed by some cheers of earnest. Marines waved goodbye to their friends, ODSTs cleaned their guns and fitted on their helmets, pilots strapped in, and away they went, singing anthems and songs of late, down to Exodus II.

Now, two men in his infiltration squad were dead, three were injured and all looked on the verge of breakdown.

Johnson had already gotten used to the fact that people **die **in wars, many years ago. It had often smacked him in the face at times just by looking at it. Death was natural in wars. Some lives are lost in milliseconds, others in painful bleeding hours. You never know when. You never know how. You just die. When it comes, it comes. In speed or shock, life in war has to end somehow. He knew that all too well.

Yet he knew that, while his life along with anyone else's was on a knife edge in this war, where the enemy took no prisoners, he would continue living to serve the UNSC. The human race will not go out without a fight. He will go on to the end, even if he was the last man standing.

They had continued further into the black and brown labyrinth of rocks and boulders with no more sound then the scuffle of boots on gravel. The trek was hard on the marines, but had the pilot been not so skilled in quick deployments while under pressure and fire, they would be a lot further away from the base than they were now. He thought about convincing the admiral to give her a pay rise.

Further and further they trekked, through crevasse to cliff to cave. Johnson was glad to have a tracker unit in his team. Two rocket units slung SpnKr launchers, man portable weapons with two revolving barrels. The rockets themselves were 102mm long, more than large enough to deal with anything the Covenant had to offer. They were certainly powerful enough to destroy the core shielding of a scarab tank.

They came to a cave, its mouth opened to a grey tunnel with small light. Johnson knew that even with torches, it would be hard to spot elites in active camouflage. The only way they could see them was by the odd distortion of air and the glow of their weapons. Whistling a sharp note to the group, he twirled his finger and then pressed his hand down in mid-air to ask for the power drainer. One marine, Todd skulked forward and handed to Johnson a small circular device. Placing it in Johnson's hand, the marine watched as the sergeant threw the disk like a Frisbee into the depths of the dark tunnel. He pressed the activation key on the remote.

The disk was silent in its operation, save a little crackling and a faint buzz after it activated. The 'power drain' basically worked like a short-spanned glow-stick; when activated, had ten seconds to burn out and then detonate itself. Not so much noise as the marines had hoped for, but silence was essential if they wanted to approach the base undetected.

Ten seconds in waiting in combat is like eternity, and eternity can wear down a soldier's guard, so he levelled his battle rifle at the mouth as the device lit the cave in a spectrum of yellow and blue. The others followed suit. Five seconds came to one and the device exploded. The drainer acted as a torch for the marines to know the geometric layout of the cave.

The path was clear. No holes or fissures to fall into.

The dying ethers of the drainer breathed their last, and soon, six marines walked on through the dark, the roof of the cave searing upwards to skyscraper height itself. One marine couldn't help but say 'wow', and Johnson couldn't blame him. Discovering more about home as they knew it seemed all in a days work for a soldier of the UNSC.

Travelling on, they saw a light. The end of the tunnel. The tracker beeped; a clear sign that they were getting closer.

The marine holding the tracker, Gordon Sims, rubbed his brow in the heat of the afternoon. He was tired, but so was everyone else. They had to keep going. They came to a clearing, their armour sporting green and black colours as they walked into sunlight. Rocks still rose menacingly above them, but offered some daylight into their vision.

Sims piped up, simultaneously at the same time with the tracker. They had arrived at the base. Johnson signalled 'silencers' to the Marines for all weapons except the launcher carriers, then pointed his index finger sideways and then forwards. An ODST, Jack nodded his head to confirm that he had the periscope. Squatting like the rest of the team, he ambled toward and handed it to Johnson. Lying flat on his stomach, he switched it on and hit zoom times ten.

A large four legged temple-like structure lay in front of them. Like all Covenant works of art, it was purple, standing in stark contrast to the dusty yellow plains of Exodus. Forts and communication arrays dotted the outside as soldiers of the covenant walked and attended their duties. Plasma cannons lay dormant next to every instalment of alien technology and power lines formed and snaked throughout the base outlier into the nexus; the base itself. Shifting upwards, he spied that the roof was crawling with snipers and fuel rod launchers. This was going to be difficult. He saw the recharging scarab tanks at the back of the base, their triple jointed massive legs streaming with energy as power was slowly built up inside the core.

_Now, how the hell do we get there without being spotted?_

Johnson sighed. This was getting harder by the minute. There were too many guards wondering in and out of the base to walk in undetected. They needed a distraction, fast.

Johnson lowered his periscope and handed it back to Jack as he stared at the fort. He estimated it to be around 200, 250 soldiers, give or take. He rubbed his head. They haven't even started fighting yet and already he was getting stressed. Anyone would consider this suicide, anyone, except, maybe him...

"Sir?" an ODST's voice whispered form his helmet. Johnson turned to see Jack, peering over the rocky cover they had, twisting the dial on his head.

He was trying to look at the base using his helmet zoom system. The dumb bastard was going to get them killed.

Lurching toward him, Johnson grabbed the ODST by the shoulder and pulled him down to the floor. He lay on his back, silver visor facing upwards at Johnson.

"Do you have any idea what you almost did?"

"Sorry sir, it's just-"

"Just what? That you just love to get us spotted and killed? Compromising this mission is the last thing anyone wants as of this moment!"

"But sir, I-"

"Don't you 'but' me, soldier, I ain't got time for excuses! Now pull yourself together and get yourself focused before I-"

"They've got hostages, sir! I thought I caught a glimpse of a guy in scruffy uniform and I peeked over to confirm it, sir!"

"How-?"

"They're holding them in the northeast section of the base from our viewpoint, sir. One of the prisoners had opened a window to get a breather and then got dragged back in."

"Give me that periscope!"

Looking again, Johnson's stomach churned as the scope took him through the plasma shielded viewport and into one of the cells to see a scruffily dressed and worn –out prisoner. His head hung between his knees as he sat miserably on the corner of the cell. He saw a woman dressed similarly to him walk up to the man and sit down next to him, cradling a bundle. He didn't need to see it wriggling in the woman's arms to tell him it was a baby.

Swearing, he sat against the rock wall that separated them from visual contact with the base.

"Thanks, Jack." was his moan of defeat that came from his lips.

"What do we do now, sir?" asked an anxious marine.

Johnson had given up. In all his years of fighting the covenant, he had never come upon a challenge as tough as this. If they tried to sneak in, they would be spotted and shot to pieces. Bombardment was out of question, as the covenant had now decided to take prisoners and the scarabs would blow the fighters out of the sky if they tried to avoid blowing up the prisoners.

"What about backup?" Jack piped up, his whispering voice strained with hopefulness.

"The Mallet of Praise can only spare so many soldiers. All the other ships are at earth making repairs and sorting those pesky Innies"

'Innies' stood for the Insurrectionists, a hardy group of rebels that had taken up a stand against the UNSC. Using stolen equipment, ships and weapons, they weren't as dangerous as the Covenant, but they definitely were large enough to be noticed.

"Even if they could spare more ships to carry soldiers; we're too far away to get a good signal."

"How far, sir?"

Johnson shot Jack an annoyed look. He was always inquisitive and trying to find ways to solve problems by whatever means possible, as long as no-one got hurt in the solution or if it was too damn ridiculous.

"Well," Johnson continued. "Unless you're more than willing to go down and ask them Brutes to borrow a seraph fighter to fly a two hour trip to Tennant to get a signal to Earth about two light years away, I think it's very far away indeed? You want to carry on quizzing me on just how dire our situation **isn't**?"

Jack bowed his helmet, slightly.

"No sir."

"Good. Now shuttup, sit down and let me think."

_Poor Jack, _He thought as Jack solemnly trudged away to sit and inspect his battle rifle. _He was only trying to help._

Jack could be a pain in the ass at times, even when he never meant to be. A lot of the time he was quiet, reserved, often filled with a sense of humour and an almost child-like air, so naïve in a way that had he not been an ODST, he would have passed as an average citizen, or a class-clown.

Johnson had to remind himself at times though that Jack had done extraordinary things for the sake of his team. He was never prone to outbursts, nor was he hot-headed like his other comrades. He wasn't the strongest or the hardiest of the team, but his stamina and willpower was exceptional enough to exceed both.

Sighing, Johnson raised his comm. He would have to cancel the mission. It was too risky. He told his squad what he was going to do and then touched the comm in his ear.

He was about to inform the Mallet of his decision to the commander when static barked a fierce hello. Grunting in annoyance, he tapped the receive button.

"Cortana Ma'am, this better be good."


	13. Halo Renegade Elite 2:3

The Sangheili commander Zetras strode through the prison hallway, observing the human prisoners with every sweep of his crested battle armoured head from side to side. His golden armour shone with the pride and dignity that came with its purchase; elevating to the ranks to a feared and respected warrior of the Covenant. His boots clanked on the metal floor, echoing as he strode through the prison complex. His four mandibles clicked as he smelt the numbing scent of electro-plasma emanating from the prison cells. Adjusting a shoulder guard that was beginning to itch, he straightened as a crimson veteran stalking past him did the same. He nodded at the guards that positioned themselves in both sides of the prison cells. In the prison cells, sitting in the far corner, Zetras had to squint his eyes just to see two humans, one holding a bundle close to its chest.

Many elites in his position would have looked upon the humans in rags in disdain, loathe, hate, even anger for what they had done to cause such misery to the Covenant in the war that had raged for so many bloody years. Zetras however, looked upon them, with pity.

Oh, what a scandal and disgrace it would be to the Covenant to know that one of their greatest soldiers actually felt sorry for the enemy. Zetras was not ashamed of this, not only because the Covenant didn't know this, but because deep down, he knows that it is the right thing to do.

Hating the enemy is something common in all the ranks of the Covenant militia, yet none have read the writs and scrolls of the high council Sangheili elders so avidly and keenly other than Zetras.

Zetras had not been comfortable with the original concept of becoming a philosophical warrior; he found it uncomfortable, distracting, and foolish. Reading a datapad containing the scrolls of the Sangheili elders changed that.

At the time, his mind was as shaken and damaged as his leg from a shrapnel bomb from the humans. The scrolls that he read not only healed his mind, but gave him the willpower to return to battle before his leg had properly healed. He had never felt so uplifted and strong when he struck to his newfound beliefs. His newfound philosophy had inspired many more soldiers under his charge to rally under him, to give him support and start a cult in the Covenant.

Zetras never minded this and embraced it, openly. He had never thought his philosophical views would earn so much loyalty. He was only thankful that it did not clash with the high council's great journey belief.

Now though, Zetras felt disgraced and horrible for just holding the humans prisoner. He had no idea he would be assigned this task. The message from Truth himself seemed to be a reasonable excuse: they were running out of 'truly' able commanders to lead the forces, thanks to the demon.

_The demon must be a powerful warrior to cause such a blow to our militia._ His hand touched the hilt of his twin bladed energy sword. _His time will come._ He knew it. He savoured it. Savoured the day that _the demon, clad in his emerald battle armour, similar to his, approached the frontlines and declared a challenge to fight him. He would accept and tell his gunners to stand down. _

_He would order his servant to bring another blade and hand it to him. _

_Accepting it, combat would ensue._

_It would be fast._

_It would be deadly._

_It would be glorious._

_It would be him that eventually strikes the disabling blow, knocking the sword out of his hand and bringing him to his knees. He would stare at him and raise his sword as the demon awaited his death. _

_And then, with a click, he would de-activate it and hold out a hand, to the defeated soldier._

He knew he would spare him. He did not believe in killing hapless enemies. He never did, after the scriptures told him so. The question in his head that nagged the thoughts of granting a ring-destroyer mercy after his crimes, was that would his allies know any better?

If disgrace and death awaited him for not killing a defenceless enemy, then so be it, but he would not allow himself to let even his most hated enemies fall victim to his hatred and anger. He was a Sangheili commander, for prophet's sake. He would not allow himself to descend to a simple killing machine. And yet, it wasn't the scriptures that made him realise that.

It was a friend.

_Volamee…_

He could have saved him if he wasn't busy colonizing this damned planet. It had been two months since his friend and most trusted comrade had become the unthinkable.

_And only two day units since my brother had been prosecuted for allowing the demon to destroy Halo._

First his friend, and now, his dear brother. Was he going mad, or did the gods no longer favour him?

_That is, if there are **any **gods to worship at all._

He shook his head, making a nearby methane-packed Unggoy flinch and waddle to its destination faster than anticipated.

_Stop it,_ he told himself. _Such thoughts can incur rebellion in the Covenant._

_-Maybe there is only one god. The scriptures dictated of a supposed singular deity._

_Well, I do not know, but in the mean time, I must continue with my burdens and duties._

_-Consider it. It may help you in more ways than you can imagine. _

_I'm a commander. I use my imagination for tactical situations, not philosophising with voices in my head that incur me to seek epiphanies as well as faith._

_-That is probably what separates you and me. _

_Who are you?_

There was a heart-beat of a pause.

_-A guide._

The new voice disappeared within the reaches of his consciousness, carrying across the winds that soared through the waterfalls of its paradise home…

Suddenly, he found himself facing the lieutenant that had turned to face him. He gathered himself, and queried the guard of the prisoner's condition.


	14. Halo Renegade Elite 2:4

"What!"

Even when whispering, Johnson sounded surprised, and angry at the same time. Jack figured it was either that Cortana was actually giving Johnson good news that he didn't realise yet, or that there was a preposterous solution that she had produced herself in the command ship.

Jack took this into considerate curiosity, and that curiosity began to nag into his head to the point which he had to activate his comm and listen in on the conversation, observing that the sergeant had reduced his voice to a strained yet barley audible voice.

He knew it was against protocol and procedures to listen to private matters being discussed, but screw the rules. He was only curious.

_Just press one ear on the door and then off._

It was in five seconds into the conversation that he understood what Johnson was talking about and realised that he keyed in during mid-sentence. He continued to watch the Covenant base and strained to listen.

"….crossed the line with this, Ma'am. You and I have served and known each other since Reach, and I have **never** seen or heard you think of such a thing!"

Cortana's voice may have had the tell-tale undertone of the standard battleship A.I., but even that didn't distort the feminine side to her voice, which mostly covered up the synthetic pitch anyway. She had the voice of a commanding officer, yet she could deliver the most subtle and innocent vocals that made him at times mistake her for a Harvest girl school graduate.

_And to think that she was flash-cloned from a scientist in her mid thirties._

"Trust me. Captain Jericho approved this, and you know what he's like when people don't always agree with him."

Jack stifled a snigger as a memory of a weedy commander trying to convince Jericho to retreat in a ship-to-ship battle in which **they** were winning. The only response he got in return was an earful and a bleeding nose.

Johnson seemed to pause, as if recalling the memory as well.

"There are too many of them. Clearly, I haven't sent you a visual. The snipers will think this as a joke!"

"I doubt that. I'm looking at the units now. I'm sure he can take them."

"What- How come-?"

"Sorry, I forgot to say, I'm looking at them through ODST Unit 659's helmet display."

Behind his visor, Jack's face was a white sheet. 659 was **his** unit number.

Johnson's response was mutual with Jack's.

"How the…?"

"He's jacked in the comm frequency at the moment and right now is looking at the base. Now, who was it, oh yes, Jack! Jack, could you adjust the focus on your lens? I believe I might have startled you and caused you to fog up your helmet."

Jack, half-expecting to receive a scolding from Johnson and Cortana, fumbled with his helmet as he pried it off his head and rubbed the inside with one black leather gloved hand. Slipping it back on, he peeked over the rock wall and twisted the dial of his helmet. The base enlarged to the point that he could have been looking at from a nearby hilltop. The figures grow in size as well and Jack could identify the hulking spiny shapes of the Hunters and the small diminutive Grunts, their triangular methane packs bobbing as they scuttled to their assignments.

"He will provide a distraction as well as a one man reinforcement party while you head down and blow up those scarabs. Rescue of the hostages comes after, unless you have enough men to split up into more than one group."

Johnson took one glimpse at his group, as did Jack. Six wasn't enough. They weren't Spartans, as much as they wanted to be. The hostage priority had to come last.

"Negative, Ma'am. Two soldiers died a kilometre away from the drop-off point. There aren't enough of us to split and stage a rescue and attack the base at the same time."

"Understood. I notify the Chief of the hostages."

"Roger, Ma'am. One question though, how will we know when to sneak in?"

Jack could hear the smile on Cortana's lips as she responded.

"Simple. Look for a flaming Pelican."

"Understood, Ma'am. Johnson out." Jack heard the surprise in his voice all too well.

Jack had tuned out of the comm system when it hit him.

He was coming.

The destroyer of Halo, the ring world.

The Bane of the Covenant.

The purge of the nightmarish parasite, The Flood.

The Hero of Earth and the Warrior of the UNSC battalion.

The Chief was coming.

Jack had never felt so exhilarated with hope, as well as a bit of joy.

The Chief was coming.


	15. Halo Renegade Elite 2:5

It had dawned upon Petty Officer Master Chief Spartan John 117 that this was the third covenant hostage rescue that he had undertaken, since he rescued Keyes from the truth and Reconciliation ship on the Halo ring. It didn't matter to him though; he was getting better at it all time.

The Mallet of Praise was a battle ship that dwarfed the Pillar of Autumn, Captain Keyes's ship completely. In fact it looked as though two of the Halycon class ships had simply been stuck on the side and were simply adjusted to assume the role of engine thrusters. It was in fact a frigate, a powerful ship that was faster and just as strong as the Pillar, but with more firepower and better shielding.

John stood in the weapon room, his MJOLNIR Mark VI prototype shining in the wall-lit room. It was his call as to whether or not his other Spartans, Linda, Will and Fred would be involved in this. He chose to leave them. After a harrowing trip back to the Sol System after fighting the Covenant, John felt that he did not want to risk their injury, or worse.

He didn't want to think about it. John and his three Spartans were the last of their kind, a supposedly doomed project that involved finding and training children at the age of six to become soldiers. It was when they reached the ages of fourteen or sixteen that it all started to go wrong. The SPARTAN II project consisted of finding individuals with special genetic markers in their body, allowing them, or so the scientists believed, to withstand the 'adjustments' needed to become a super-soldier, part human, part cyborg and part something completely different to the UNSC standard military force.

The experiments were disastrous in the end though. John, Linda, Fred and Will were all part of the few who survived without permanent or critical damage to their bodies. More than half of the original trainees had been wiped out, with ten or twelve more severely crippled and disabled.

The Spartans were made to aid the military in dealing with incursions and insurgents from opposing governments. Nearly all of the movements such as the Insurrectionists were almost wiped out or brought to their knees by the time the Spartans had dealt with them. Then, The Covenant attacked.

The Spartans, like everyone else in the UNSC, were just as surprised and taken back by their ferocity and their religious tenacity as they were. They had never encountered an enemy so powerful, so fierce, so disciplined, so technologically advanced in their years of combat.

It was this inexperience; no matter well they thought that killed yet another majority of his Spartans. He was the only Spartan in a combat situation to lead his units, and they died anyway. It was unbearable, unthinkable and painful to see your comrades that you knew only so well in your life just die, vanish, or explode. Bile would often rise in his throat when he thought of this. If it weren't for his duty and role to the UNSC...

"Chief? I told them you were coming alone. I could send some marines to accompany you, if you wanted."

John looked at the speaker that perched on the top corner of the room. The megaphone softly vibrated as Cortana, the Mallet's replacement A.I., spoke to him in a crisp and suggestive manner. John replied.

"No thanks. I think I can handle this on my own. I've made that clear before, haven't I?"

"Hmph, you 'think'. Chief! This is an entire covenant base camp we're talking about here and you're going in alone?"

"Not exactly. You know Johnson and his team are down there as well."

"I meant you as the only Spartan. I could change your mind and call the others from what they're doing."

"The UNSC need every Spartan on the frontline. You know that saying, Cortana."

John had finished placing his fragmentation and covenant plasma grenades onto his belt. He attached his M6D pistol sidearm to his left thigh and an M7 sub machine gun to his right. On his back, he placed an MA5L, an assault rifle with a fifty round magazine and a higher accuracy rate than the MA5B rifle. He then picked up a BR60 Battle Rifle, a weapon that had a forty round magazine and stronger ammunition, perfect for headshots.

He made for the door to the hangar bay.

"Uh, Chief?"

He stopped.

"Yes Cortana?"

"Your helmet."

Suppressing a sudden red heat that flushed in his cheeks, John went to pick up his orange visored helmet.

"Looks like someone's got a little brain freeze from cyro-sleep, huh?"

"Very funny, Cortana. Very funny."

Slotting his helmet on, he was completely in encased in a suit of green battle armour. Combined with a recharging energy shield and armour plating which could deflect bullets and absorb plasma, it was a technological achievement in the military. He just hoped it was strong enough for the punishment he was about to put it through.

He stretched his arms and legs, checked his suit for any bugs, and strode down the steps into the hangar bay, where a Pelican awaited him.

His comm signal chimed in his ear and he answered it with a flick from his neural implants.

"Chief. Be careful out there, will you?"

"I will."

"I just wish I could go with you. It's too dangerous."

"I've been fighting in this war long before they even introduced you to me. This would be dangerous, for you, maybe." John strode into the Pelican cargo hold, the black, red lit passenger room sealing him from the light of the outside world. The pilot doorway slid sideways into the wall, welcoming him in. He sat at the main seat and tapped the activation key. The Pelican began to hum as its stubby winged engines fired up.

"But not to me."

The maintenance crew removed the clamps and the doors opened, revealing a star-lit black night outside.

**A/N:**

**Hey again!-**

**This of course does some background on Zetras, Thel Vadum's brother and Atros Volamee.**

**A bit less action than the first one but with more dialogue and description.**

**Hope you liked**


	16. The 'Wikipedia Plot Summaries' 1:

**These are what I like to call; The Wikipedia Plot summaries**

**Basically I wrote the plot in short notes to layout the stories and later flesh them out.**

**This is me being completely lazy- but I hope you enjoy checking these out as well .**

**These are chunks of the summary- enjoy**

"In the Covenant an elite ship master learns of Halo's true powers while on a mission to recover a relic. He meets a discarded monitor named Ambient Blaze who reveals this to him, making him rebel against the Covenant. However, he also learns that the power of Halo can be absorbed into sentients, making them invincible. It is this that drives him to betray the Covenant in the first place. As a shipmaster, his call for 'justice' is heard by his followers and soon he has an enslaved army at his command, converted and bent to his will."

"The Chief is on the run and eventually escapes just as they glass the planet, carrying a baby girl, the only known civilian left on the planet. The UNSC realize that eventually the Covenant will arrive on Earth and realize that the chief is the only able Spartan left to defend it. The chief meets up with Cortana, Johnson, and is first introduced to Miranda Keyes. It is then that he begins to have horrific visions of his friends being tortured and Earth being destroyed. The visions appear to have a violent and psychotic effect on the Chief and he is rushed to a recovery unit."

"….the council meet up and discuss issues on the new heresy that has emerged from the uprising of the renegade elite, known as A'tros Volamee. They are in the council chamber with the 300 elite guards that has been placed there along with three Brute packs. Suddenly, power mysteriously shorts out. Just when emergency power kicks in, Volamee attacks. He is a cyborg elite with artificial arms and legs and implants placed everywhere in his body. The guards fire at him, pouring out plasma, grenades, shots, carbines, fuel rods, everything."

"However, Volamee's armour is made of forerunner material, and is impervious to all Covenant weapons. Truth is impressed but orders the 300 elite guards to kill him. All of them draw their energy swords and prepare to attack. Volamee draws out his energy lance/staff/double blade/nunchuk/trident/spear/single blade/ single x2/original sword/original x2/wristblade/starsword (four bladed single swords)/mace/axe/hammer/short sword/ shuriken/katana/reverse handle sword. (Am yet to choose which or maybe all used in order). He attacks and kills the entire 300 elite guard."

"Truth is the first, to which, Volamee proclaims to have looked forward to kill for the lies that have ruled his life"

"A fellow commander named Zetras (his last name is unknown) is summoned before the prophets. He decides to be the double agent. He is the brother of the yet to be Arbiter and wants to participate in the mission and risk his life to clear his brother's name."

Volamee lands and his forces assault the entire continent. Military forces are obliterated and Volamee begins to capture slaves. Johnson arrives with his troops and attack. Volamee's troops are pinned down by the immense firepower, but Volamee strides in, deflecting and throwing rockets back at the humans. Zetras fights alongside the elite with the remainder of his own strike team. Johnson can only watch as his team is slaughtered. Johnson attacks in anger but only ends up stunned. John arrives just in time to see Johnson about to be killed by Volamee. Drawing his M6D, he only manages to knock out the elite for a brief instant in a single headshot.

John lies unconscious in a prison inside his head where he has a conversation with a mysterious voice in the dark. The voice tells John the location of Volamee and then disappears. John awakens and tells Hood of the location that had just been revealed to him. Hood is wary but scouts suddenly pick up a slip space trail. A single fleet led by the Hammer of Praise follows it, and it leads to a desert planet protected by the fleet that had attacked Earth.

Chief finds Volamee and engages him in hand-to-hand combat, but Volamee is too strong and knocks him unconscious. The troops imprison all the soldiers in energy cells, yet the Chief is taken to a torture chamber. Volamee takes Cortana and installs her into a network prison.

He then tries to break John. John asks why he is being tortured like this. Volamee replies for revenge and 'because it's fun,' and that he had never found such an individual so confused and manipulated in his life. He begins the torture, pouring images and visions into his minds through "neuro-implant machines" that connect to his brain.

John is first shown a vision of when Volamee captures Captain Keyes on the first Halo ring. Volamee is seen leading the attack group as a crimson veteran elite, who uses information from a traitor left behind after she demanded that the Captain's group surrender to the Covenant. Volamee executes the other crew members and then shoots the traitor. He then captures Keyes and brings him to the Truth and Reconciliation ship.

Noting John's reaction to the traitor's part in Keyes capture, Volamee deduces to him that the human race is pathetic and deserves no mercy for its sins.

He is then shown a vision of when he was rescuing Captain Keyes from the Covenant ship The Truth and Reconciliation. John and the marines storm the ship and find Keyes. Volamee, a golden elite commander, guarding Keyes, appears and attacks John with an energy sword. John finds another sword and in the desperate fight, John slices off Volamee entire right arm and kicks him off a balcony to the hangar floor, where he watches Keyes, John and the marines fly away in a Covenant Dropship. Volamee recalls being broken and humiliated that day and was reduced to simply laughing matter by his former allies as he received a cyborg arm and while he maintained his position and elevated to Shipmaster, he remained unpopular throughout the Covenant. Since that day he has been hell-bent on making John suffer the most painful ordeals and curses before killing him.

John is shown a nightmarish vision of Earth being enslaved by Volamee's forces. The human race is divided and slaved off to other quadrants in space. Few have resisted against Volamee's will and survived. The last resistance party is led by Johnson. Earth's government is still intact until Volamee, self-proclaimed president and grand leader issues their termination. Volamee becomes the dictator of Earth and sends his assassin, John 117, to lead Earth's enslaved soldiers and Volamee's army to destroy the rebellion. John is seen raiding a base and wiping out the last of the marines. He confronts Johnson. Johnson tries to reach out to him but it is no use; John's mind is lost, telepathically controlled by Volamee. Volamee arrives to see John mortally wounding Johnson and preparing to kill him. As he falls, he drops a chip on the floor. John recognizes it as Cortana, and ordered by Volamee, lifts his foot to crush it. In his dying words, Johnson manages to say "She believed that you would break free of his control. Obviously she was wrong. I was too." John pauses, as if conflicted, and then crushes the chip. Johnson shouts out in grief, only to be silenced as John shoots him.

Back in reality, Volamee watches in glee as John's pained screams echo throughout the chamber

Zetras is left to wander the fortress, giving him the opportunity to contact High Charity. He enters the communications centre and is able to send out a brief distress message before Volamee appears and reveals that he has already known that Zetras was a double agent but pretended that he didn't know to sell the deception. Thrown in the prison quarters, Volamee states that his fleet will outnumber any rescue team that the Covenant sends. He orders his fleet to move into position and moves out to his 'shrine'. Zetras lies in his cell, until he hears a voice calling out to him. To the cell across him, a prophet introduces himself as Pyarus Toiron

The Covenant decided that he was not worth the attention of the military and one day sent A'tros Volamee down to the planet to find a relic. In doing so, he encountered Pyarus and Blaze. Pyarus urged him to leave, but Blaze unintentionally revealed Halo's secret to Volamee. Furious, Volamee murdered his own team and demanded to know more of Halo's power. Unwillingly, Pyarus allowed Blaze to form his body to the 'necessary requirements' to allow him to begin processing the energy, as such power would kill any other normal living organism. As the years passed, more recon units were sent to find out the fate of their previous strike team, only to be mercilessly slaughtered or mindlessly converted by Volamee. Volamee in his bloodlust and vengeance demanded more and more upgrades. Reluctantly, Blaze complied until Volamee was completely encased in a forerunner suit of armour, impervious to all save a direct hit from an energy sword.

Gathering weapons, UNSC and Covenant guns, they blast through the prison cells and free more prisoners including grunts and jackals. Volamee locates them and his soldiers arrive with him to incapacitate them. Johnson attacks while Miranda, Hood and the marines hold their ground. Johnson tells Pyarus to find John and save him. With Zetras in tow, they leave in search of John. Johnson attempts to kill Volamee but receives a broken arm. The group are subdued and taken away.

Zetras kills the guards and rushes in to find Pyarus placing his hands upon the Spartan's head, murmuring strange words and chanting ancient rhymes. The prophet is giving John the last of his power, as the will of the gods do not depict him stopping Volamee alone, for he is too weak and old. The prophet says that John is on the brink, yet is still holding onto something dear in his mind, then with his last breath, he falls and dies with the last of his strength gone. Zetras can only watch as the Spartan regains consciousness, aware of what has just happened. In a brief exchange, they both conclude that Volamee must be stopped and set off, away from the fortress, fighting Death troopers as they traverse across the desert-grass plains, climbing mountains and guided only by John's visions.

Volamee attempts to make an agreement with John, saying that if he surrenders, he will allow him and his friends to live while he will use Cortana to gain access to Earth and 'negotiate' with the world leaders to stand down and allow him complete control of the human home planet. If John attacks, Volamee will kill him, his friends and will simply find Earth and destroy it. He reveals his army of 1 million bloodthirsty soldiers consisting of Brutes, Grunts, Jackals, Elites and Hunters, all enslaved and twisted to Volamee's cause. Volamee reveals himself on top of a Master Scarab tank, flanked by 10 more standard scarabs.

Volamee starts to panic for some unknown reason and orders his soldiers to attack as John finds a Ghost, fires it up and charges head on towards the army. He arms himself with an energy sword and energy shield, like a knight on horseback. The lone soldier and the vengeful army collide in an intense battle. Right from the start, John has the advantage, using his 'powers' to wipe out the converted beasts from tens to hundreds at a time. Volamee watches in awe and horror as the Spartan begins to force his way through the army to Volamee. Chiming a series of codes into a console, he releases a group of forerunner behemoths, armed with plasma cannons and chainsaw arms. He orders them to attack John as he begins to finish off the dwindling army.

Knocked down, John picks up a Brute Chopper and hacks through the behemoths with a chainsaw of his own. Volamee orders his scarabs to fire.

John uses his powers to absorb and collect the scarab beams into one single beam and destroys them in a blast of Forerunner energy. Volamee takes Cortana and blasts away in an escape shuttle, leading him to his capital ship. John grabs a ship and flies after him, only to be confronted by the armada. John is outnumbered.

Back in space, Volamee and his fleet can only watch as the entire Covenant armada, from carriers to battleships to High Charity itself materializes in front of them. Truth orders the fleet to open fire as Volamee, in either madness or fear, orders his fleet to do the same. A massive space battle ensues, with Zetras ordering his supporting allies to rescue the human ships from Converted control and then commanding a squadron to support John as he manoeuvres through the ships to pursue Volamee.

John confronts Volamee, saying that he is not entirely evil, just mad for power and that he can still stop the journey for power once and for all.

Volamee casts this aside, saying that what John really wants is Cortana. Lifting the data chip, he throws it down the shaft that is below the walkway; a massive pit. John jumps after Cortana, and manages to grab her before she warns him subconsciously of Volamee falling after him, energy swords sparking outwards in both hands. Drawing his own, John engages Volamee in a freefalling energy sword fight, before landing on an energy pipe and fighting onwards. Volamee manages to grab Cortana and the fight escalates up the wall of the pit, both dual wielding energy swords.

They land back on the platform and continue their fight, utilising swords to katanas to staffs to blades of all sorts that the power core spews out of the console. The core itself also transforms the walkway, configuring it from arenas to mobile platforms.

Zetras and Rtas arrive to see John and Volamee in intense combat and joins in, aiding the Spartan as best as they can. The three duellists begin to overwhelm Volamee, before he strikes back with swordplay of his own.

Zetras is knocked down. Vadum is slashed at the right shoulder. John attempts to grab Cortana off Volamee's belt. Realising that Volamee is seemingly unstoppable, John uses his power to try and strike the elite down. The Cyborg retaliates with power of his own and the tides turn. Volamee has absorbed enough power to fight back and is strong enough to weaken John in an energy fight.

Tired and weak, John tries to kill Volamee in one last final strike. It fails, with John losing half his right arm. Zetras battles Volamee but even with his combined fighting power they are no match for the powerful cyborg. They are knocked to the floor. Volamee picks up Cortana and prepares to absorb the rest of Cortana. Johnson, Miranda, Hood and their temporary Covenant allies run to the chamber to see John lying on the ground defeated and crawling towards Cortana. Volamee laughs. All hope appears to be lost.

Suddenly, the core begins to fire up and direct energy into John, who has managed to stay on his feet and hold his own.

Volamee questions the core why it has spared John, but is struck by a bolt of lightning to the entrance of the balcony and watches as the core begins to pour power into John. Anger and disbelief grip his soul as the core, created by the forerunners replies that John will do more good to those he loves than any soldier could, unlike Volamee, whose path for power and vengeance has done nothing more but destroyed himself and his life.

Dark power shrouds Volamee's body and he charges towards John, an elixir of light. The two collide in a burst of turquoise neon light that cripples the stronghold. When the light dies, Volamee lies on the floor dead, his cyborg body in ruins. John is still standing. He retrieves Cortana and restores the power of the core to its resting place as the room begins to collapse. John falls to the ground, unconscious from shock and blood loss.

Zetras lifts himself up and carries John away from the falling, burning debris. They escape to space as the planet is crippled and its surface glassed by the Covenant. Volamee's army is destroyed; his fleet reduced to space matter by covenant plasma lasers and UNSC MAC cannons. The Covenant and the UNSC vow that they will never join together again as allies and part. Zetras returns to the Covenant as they return to the first halo and the UNSC to Earth.

Zetras goes to the prison hold and meets with the convicted (yet-to-be) Arbiter. They exchange and Zetras promises to free him as soon as he answers for what he has done. He consults the council and tells them that Volamee is indeed dead. Truth congratulates him. Zetras questions the subject of his brother's name being cleared and the Council falls silent. Truth explains that despite aiding the defeat of Volamee and warning the Covenant of how dangerous he really was, Zetras had aided the 'demon' and is a traitor. As elites, it is the Covenant honour to find and kill the demon on sight, and Zetras had failed.

Truth has none of it and orders his brother to be brought into the council chamber. Next, he orders Tartarus to kill Zetras in front of his brother. Despite the Arbiter's pleas, Truth says that Zetras is a traitor to the Covenant and must die. Tartarus stabs Zetras with a Brute blade, killing him. Arbiter watches his brother's lifeless body being dragged away and listens as Truth convinces him that Zetras was a heretic and deserves no mercy. Arbiter is placed back to the brig to await his trial.

After the credits, we see half the ship that Cortana and John escaped the exploding Ark in Halo 3 heading towards an unidentified planet. The planet is in fact Volamee's planet. Screen cuts to a viewport of the planet and the Dawn breaking into the atmosphere from a console, before a shrivelled, dark metal hand appears and deactivates it.

A sinister, vile, hoarse laugh echoes throughout the black chamber.

Volamee is still alive.

The End.

**A/N:…..Yep, I've definitely killed Halo here :/**


	17. The 'Wikipedia Plot Summaries' 2:

**OoooKay! On to Halo 4!**

**Seeing how its already going to be made next year, I may as well give a plot summary of how I would have written it here. Enjoy.**

John 117 and Cortana crash-land on the unknown planet seen on the legendary ending of Halo 3. John is unaware of the planet they are on. They explore the planet and realise that it is Volamee's planet.

John suddenly experiences a vision of his Spartans, trapped in the Micro Dyson Sphere in the core of Onyx. Cortana deduces that the planet can open a portal to this world, where John can find the Spartans.

John begins his search for a 'portal' room when suddenly, a sapphire beast appears and attacks them, but not before revealing what it is; a Guardian Creature, one of thousands created by the Forerunner's greatest scientists as a doomsday resort, sent to destroy everything in existence if the Ark was to be destroyed.

John is only able to kill the creature by pure luck and watches as its remains disappear into blue fire.

Meanwhile, Fred, Linda and Kelly, the last three of the SPARTAN II Project are travelling the paradise sphere with the Spartan III team, Ash, Tom, Lucy, Olivia and Mark.

Also with them is Dr Halsey, the leader of the SPARTAN II Project and Chief Mendez, the Spartan trainer.

The group guard Team Katana, a team of Spartans that were captured by Onyx Sentinels and placed in cyro storage. So far, the groups have found no way whatsoever as to how to unthaw them.

Thel Vadum, the Arbiter and Shipmaster Rtas Vadumee return to Sangheilios, their home planet to find it safe, and are welcomed back as heroes.

Thel however believes that the Chief may still be alive and studies star maps to determine his possible location. He finds a UNSC beacon dropped by Cortana next to an unidentified planet. Rtas is reluctant but reveals what the planet is.

He travels through the portal and signals for his team. They re-unite and exchange greetings. John meets Dr Halsey and Chief Mendez. They return through the portal to the control room. Cortana explains the situation to the group, while Fred introduces John to the Spartan threes.

Thel identifies the planet and decides to travel there, hoping that the Chief may be there.

His preparations are interrupted by a sniper shot that he narrowly avoids. Seeing the assassin, he chases him throughout Uxur, one of the Sangheilios cities.

The assassin escapes in a sea vessel and Thel pursues him, undetected to an island. Sneaking into the base in which the assassin enters, Thel follows him to the center room, where a shriveled creature addresses a bulky, cyborg enhanced Arbiter.

Ripa Moramee, the cyborg Arbiter, reports to the shriveled creature, Atros Volamee that he has located the humans in the Sphere and that they have crossed the portal opened by Spartan 117 to his world.

The Guardians have awoken as planned and are hunting for them as they speak. Ripa reports that the assassins that were sent to destroy the 'shining one' have not responded to their comm. Volamee tells Moramee that they have been killed, as there is no other plausible explanation.

The pair talk more and reveal part of the plan; Volamee has built new power-suits for the 'subjects' and asks if the strike team is ready. Moramee confirms and asks why he wants the 'stasis' demons.

Volamee replies that fully conscious Spartans would take time to indoctrinate and physically enhance, while unconscious Spartans may not be in such a position to resist.

Moramee demands blood, but Volamee warns him to be patient, as the number of Spartans guarding the pods will be dramatically cut down when his 'distraction' is under way.

Thel sneaks out of the base and contacts Rtas, warning him of the imminent danger and tells him to prepare the Shadow of Intent and two destroyers.

Thel is about to order an air strike from the ships to the base when the guards discover him. Thel attempts to fight them off, but is captured.

Rtas is left in charge. He decides to head to the planet where John was last located and rescue him.

Thel realises that Volamee has control over the Guardians. Volamee orders the Guardians to attack the humans when summoned by the Arbiter.

Ripa flies to the planet with his reconnaissance squad, unaware that Rtas is close behind with the Shadow of Intent. Ripa lands and signals the Guardians to the Spartans location. Two of them appear and attack.

The Spartans hold them off, while Fred, Tom, and Olivia guard the pods. Ripa and his team strike, catching the group off guard. Tom attacks Ripa before Fred can stop him and is knocked down. Lucy, being close to Tom since training, runs to save him and drag him to cover.

Fred and John hold off Ripa as the Spartans kill the guardians. Ripa orders his squad to capture the pods.

Despite the Spartan's advanced combat skills, the Death troopers are able to capture the pods. Just when all hope seems lost, The Shadow of Intent appears and attacks the Arbiters ship.

Elite pods fall from the ship. Rtas bursts out of one of them. Rtas attacks Ripa and a sword fight ensues. More guardians appear. John uses his powers to help the team while Fred and Kelly help the elites fight Moramee and his squad. More deathtroopers arrive.

Rtas continues to fight Ripa until Ripa impales him with one of his swords. Still standing, Rtas manages to slice one of Ripa's legs off at the knee before dying. The Death squads take advantage of the shock and capture the pods. Ripa's ship destroys the Shadow of Intent and flies away. All is quiet.

As the elites gather around Vadum's body, Fred pays his respects as a Spartan to an Elite, for saving his life.

John goes to scold Lucy for abandoning her post, but then sees her hugging Tom, and decides not to.

Kelly sees Ash digging through a rock avalanche and they find Linda. Linda had distracted and sacrificed herself to save Ash.

John hurries over and watches as Linda dies in his arms

At the Sangheilios planet, Volamee leaves the planet, taking Thel with him.

Holding him hostage, Volamee threatens the Sangheili with the death of their Arbiter if they attempt to pursue him. Arriving at his base, a crashed UNSC ship, elsewhere on the Guardian planet, Volamee begins to corrupt the Spartans.

Thel manages to escape and attempts to find and rescue the trapped Spartans. As he traverses the ship, he finds weapon rooms, cyborg enhancement and biological experiment labs and Death Trooper training camps outside. Thel realizes that Volamee is gathering a force of pure destruction. Thel finds Volamee's control room and attempts to liberate the Spartans.

Volamee appears, counseling a UNSC female AI and reveals his plan to Thel; he wants to destroy the universe. Everything. Not just Earth, nor Sangheilios, but everything in existence.

Volamee hates the universe and wants everything undone, so that he will destroy the Creator and his servants.

When Thel asks about the 'Creator', Volamee releases the Spartans, shrouded in black armour and covered in blood. Thel fights for his life but is outnumbered in strength, mental will and numbers. Thel escapes them and flees the base.

Thel flees in a ghost. However, it runs out of fuel and he retreats to a cave. As he approaches, a sniper round glances off his shoulders shields and he ducks behind a boulder.

The boulder comes under heavy UNSC fire. Quickly, Thel explains that he poses no threat. Slowly, the humans approach from cover. Rugged marines, ODST's and three, outdated armored Spartans, along with a Captain and a female scientist named Anders.

The group, led by Captain James Cutter, is what is left of the Spirit of fire's crew.

They had made a random slipspace jump and some unknown force had caused them to crash onto the planet. Serina, the spirits AI, alerted the crew and woke them up out of cyro-sleep just before the Ship began its tumble. Most of the crew died in the crash and many more were captured and killed by the Deathtroopers that appeared on site. Cutter and the Spartans led the group to safety, while Serina used what was left of the ship's defenses to hold off the troopers.

Thel describes the A.I that he saw with Volamee and Cutter moans in despair; Serina has been captured by the enemy.

….sees the Blue team Spartans, led by John 117 and a squad of veteran, zealot and ultra elites. The groups had sought the Arbiter through his armor signal and have found them.

The groups meet and exchange, peace being made between the marines and the elites. Thel asks the elites what became of Vadumee, and is told of his fall at the hands of Moramee.

He mourns over Vadum and recalls to the group what Volamee's plan is. John realises it is too late to save the Spartans. Together, John, Fred, Thel, Cutter and Mendez decide what to do next.

They plan an attack on the base.

Gathering all equipment and weapons they can muster, they prepare for an assault.

The group head out toward the base and travel through a series of tunnels that lead to the base. Guardian creatures ambush the Spartans and Elites. Chief Mendez is mortally wounded, while Dr Halsey is captured. The group runs, arriving in a dark room. They realise it is where the Guardians are being created.

Cortana decides to try and shut it down, though she realises that there are many more portals and breeder rooms all over the planet. The group split up, John, a few elites, Lucy, Tom, and Mark scout for an exit, while the others guard Cortana. Kelly attempts to heal Mendez's injuries, despite being ordered not.

Death Troopers riding guardian mounts attack both groups. Mark is slain, despite John's attempts to save the group. Many elites and marines fall, too

Cortana had confronted Serina and found she isn't all corrupted but has always been too weak to resist Volamee's dark powers. Serina begs Cortana to purge her, and she does.

With the AI disabled, Volamee takes no chances and orders all units to the tunnels.

John goes to retrieve her but finds that she is communicating to him at a non extractable terminal.

Cortana reveals that she cannot shut the producing machines down for good, they have to be destroyed. The forerunners A.I. are too powerful to simply allow Cortana to halt the imminent production and programming of such creatures. Cortana however has one last option; short-circuit all the terminals on the planet, including the one she is in. Cortana also explains that she is reaching the end of her AI life, having absorbed so much information about the forerunners and the covenant. John refuses to allow that and tries to break in.

Winged Guardians fly into the room and attempt to destroy the terminal. John bursts in and destroys the guardians, but at the cost of his strength. Cortana urges him to leave but John refuses, protecting her in a power shield just before more guardians strike. John is knocked unconscious.

John first awakens in his consciousness, where Cortana resides. John asks why he is in here and Cortana tells him that somehow his consciousness sought her when he was busy protecting her.

Cortana says she never had been so touched since he proclaimed his feelings for her in the battle against Volamee's army. Suddenly Volamee's power rips him back into reality.

John awakes in an empty room. To his surprise, Cortana is still in his armour.

John wonders why, but then hears a familiar and nightmarish voice echo throughout the room.

Volamee has captured John and is holding him in a cell.

Meanwhile, Fred and Thel, having safely hidden the group, decide to continue with the original plan, as they know John would have wanted them to. The group sneak into the base.

The Spartan threes and the Elites utilize their armor camouflage systems and take out the guards. They advance through the base, sabotaging everything they find. They arrive at the control center corridor.

Moramee attacks, smashing his fist into Fred's helmet and sending him into the other side of the corridor, killing him. Mendez fires at him with his assault rifle but falls to the elite's wrath.

Cyborg Honor Guards surround the group.

However, Moramee is unaware that Thel's elites have split from the group. One by one, the remainder of the elite squad materializes in front of the honor guards and do battle with them. Thel attacks Ripa and the fight is on. To Ripa's surprise, Thel fights only with one sword instead of two. Both are evenly matched though, eventually resulting with Thel drawing a second blade.

The Spartans and Elites with Cutter enter the control room, where Volamee awaits with the mind-bent and corrupted Spartans and Guardian monsters. An intense fight begins, with the Spartans left with no other option but to kill their old allies who they had worked hard to save.

Cutter attacks Volamee with a shotgun. He is distracted for a moment, allowing John to escape. He rescues Dr Halsey, who tells him that Volamee has created a stairway portal to the 'creator's dimension.

John realises that he may not return and urges Halsey to train more Spartans.

He creates a video file of himself to the Spartans for motivational purposes and heads off to Volamee's location, leaving Cortana with Dr Halsey.

Thel kills Ripa by inflicting multiple sword injuries on him. He and his elites enter the control room just when the evil Spartans lie dead on the floor and Volamee enters the stairway. Thel tries to pursue but is rejected by the gate for some unknown reason.

John arrives with Halsey and Cortana and tells them that only he can enter, as he is blessed with forerunner powers.

He enters the portal, but not before bidding his friends goodbye and telling Cortana he loves her.

Halsey reveals that John was like a son to him, one she never truly had because of her work.

Thel, the Arbiter wishes him luck and offers him his brother's energy sword but is turned down, being told that he has and always will need in honor of his brothers memory. John arms himself a sword of his own and other forerunner melee weapons.

Giving his friends one last look, he enters the stairway.

John enters the realm, where everything is chaos. Volamee in his monstrous spirit form turns and attacks John.

The battle is fierce and destructive. Both inflict horrific injuries upon one another. Just when Volamee prepares to kill John, Cortana appears, unable to imagine John's death and places herself in front of John.

Cortana is mortally wounded. John holds Cortana in his arms as she tells him that she truly and deeply loved him with her own heart. She dies.

A grief-stricken John renews his attack against Volamee. He fights not just for vengeance but for the people he had known, saved and lost in the long years of war that he endured

Finally, with the last reserves of his strength, John strikes Volamee down. In his dying moments, John glimpses what appears to be the Creator, before his vision blurs white and he finally dies.

Back in the control room, John's vitals read KIA, for good.

The group exit the base just as the Forerunner Guardians die out. A UNSC ship battalion has found the contact beacon from Cortana and retrieves the survivors.

Thel returns to his planet to tribute to Rtas and the fallen elites. At Earth, Halsey and the Spartans do the same to their comrades, adding more signatures and data pads to the monument in South Africa.

Many years later, Halsey has trained more lead scientists for the project SPARTAN IV, where new roles in the Spartan Militia have branched out.

Ash and Olivia have married, and help train the new Spartans alongside Kelly, the last Spartan II, and Tom and Lucy.

Every recruit to the Spartan cause watches the video profile of John 117, while the Sangheili arrive occasionally to train the Spartans in combat.

All is at peace, and all who dwell in the universes are safe.

For now.

**A/N: Ok, you should give yourselves a moment to breath before reading this.**

**Yes, yes, this stuff was made when I was way younger than I am now, so there's sappiness and loads of fight scenes and loads of religious context- (having been raised a Christian here).**

**Well, say what you like about this. I know obviously that Halo 4 will turn out very different and probably better than the ideas that used to whirl around in my head.**

**Once again, as an author I'm sorry to be unable to provide you with more content.**

**I hope it helps with your ideas, in some way, or another and inspires the rest of you writers out there to make works of your own.**

**One tip however.**

**Don't let this sort of thing rule your lives. There's you, there's your story, and then there's your life.**

**Do what's right for you first, before doing what's right for your creative side.**

**And uh, yeah, that's it.**

**Thanks for reading, and to the hardcore Halo fans out there who are wondering just what the 'eff' they just read, sorry for killing the genre. I'm what they call an expressionist, not an artist.**


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